With or Without You
by Lady Grantham
Summary: The death of Sarah O'Brien's favourite brother has far-reaching consequences for all. Cora/O'Brien.
1. Chapter 1

Sarah O'Brien was harder than most, but even she could not escape the realities of War. There was a big wide world outside the village of Downton, beyond the house she had reluctantly called home for eleven years now; they couldn't all sit around a dining table and darn their mistress' delicates. It seemed almost every bloody week they lost a footman, a hall boy, a groom, to His Majesty's service, and more often than not they were never heard from again. The rest of them fell into two categories; those waiting to be called up with bated breath, desperate to get out there and fight for king and country. She called that lot the stupid sods, and Thomas, daft bugger, had slotted right into that category. The second lot had her sympathy, and that was something Sarah barely ever gave, because they didn't _want_ to go to war; they knew they might not ever come back.

Her brothers, god love them all, fell into the first category. She had five of them, each as stupid as the other and as bloody lovable, and only one of them had hesitated when the time had come to sign up. As always Alfie had been the one resist, but he'd always been a home bird anyway. He was never as happy as when he on the farm with Dad, smoking a cheeky cigarette behind the cowshed – silly sod still thought Dad didn't know – and working a hard, long day at home where he belonged. He was a strong young lad, but he had the softest of hearts, and he was still so _young_. She'd never been prouder of him when he'd said no, and there wasn't a thing wrong with being scared – those that got themselves killed were the ones who pretended they weren't. But more than anything, she was relieved; relieved for Alfie, relieved for her father and relieved for _herself_. She wasn't stupid enough to believe she'd be lucky enough to have all her brothers survive, and at least this way she'd still have one left at the end of it all.

Well, until conscription had snapped him up anyway.

Her dim-witted brothers weren't the only thing on her mind though – god forbid she'd ever be allowed a moment to think about herself. Whilst the stupid sods ran off to get themselves killed, she had a Countess to contend with, one who still behaved like it was nineteen-bloody-thirteen and swanned around in her evening gowns and pretty little robes and demanded even _more_ of her than she had before. And strangely enough, she gave it. She gave every little piece of already stretched-thin self to the woman in the hopes of producing a smile, and more often than not she failed, and she knew exactly why because she'd been responsible for it all. It still haunted her, the cries of pain, the crimson on the floor, and the crush of her mistress' hand as she delivered the tiny, miserable thing that never had a chance to draw a breath but frequented her nightmares still.

"Miss O'Brien."

Carson's familiarly gruff voice startled her reverie and thank god too; she'd been heading back into the dark place, and that always meant a nightmare or two, not that she didn't deserve it. Sometimes Sarah thought she'd be better off burning in hell, but being by Cora's side and seeing her pain was penance enough. Sarah soon noticed a pair of eyes fixed on her and looked up to meet Daisy's gaze; she pursed her lips and gave her the usual menacing stare. She was harmless enough, but it was times like these that Sarah couldn't bear the rest of this misbegotten lot.

"Shall I 'ave a picture taken for you or would you prefer just to stare?" she drawled flatly.

The girl stuttered a response and ducked her head, and Sarah felt a small measure of regret. She didn't blame Daisy for staring really – she must look a right miserable cow sitting and staring down at her work and remembering that day of utter anguish – but if there was one thing Sarah didn't like it was pity, and certainly not from the idiots she worked with. She wouldn't have it from Thomas, not that he'd ever give it, and she _certainly_ wouldn't have it from Daisy.

"That's enough, Miss O'Brien," Carson chimed in predictably, and held something out in her general direction. She felt her heartbeat quicken at the sight of it, and had pushed herself up and out of her chair before Carson could even announce it was for her.

Sarah practically snatched the letter from his hands, and Carson simply raised a brow before taking his customary position at the head of the table but she barely noticed. Her entire being was focused on the envelope in her hands. She briefly contemplated tucking it into her pocket and opening it later, but it had been so long since she'd heard from one of her brothers that she couldn't wait, and used the needle she had been using on her ladyship's lacy garment to slice it open, retrieving the precious scrap of paper inside.

She should have guessed really. The envelope hadn't been thick enough to contain a letter; the O'Brien brothers loved to bloody ramble on about nothing, and there was nothing in here but a single rectangular piece of paper. A telegram of course, from the war office, addressed to Miss Sarah Jane O'Brien.

It didn't say much, but what it did say was enough to stop her cold.

"Good news, Miss O'Brien?"

Sarah didn't hear her at first. She was too caught up in the grief slicing through her like a knife to give a damn about the rest of the people at the dining table, but she eventually became aware of a pair of curious eyes on her, and she looked up to Anna with a knee-jerk reaction of disdain.

"What's it t'you?"

But she couldn't know, could she? As far as Anna Smith was concerned, Sarah O'Brien was entirely alone in the world. She'd never mentioned her parents and she'd never mentioned her brothers and she was determined for it to stay that way. Besides, the girl hadn't meant any harm. Sometimes she thought she did, but that was all Bates' influence. Anna had been alright before _he_ had come along, but now she was just another person Sarah didn't have the time of day for. It was just Thomas and Her Majesty these days.

"She was only asking."

Bates.

Sarah scowled stood up abruptly with the telegram clenched in his fist. Never mind pity, the one thing she hated more than anything was John bloody Bates sticking his nose into her business – what did anything she said or did have to do with him, _or_ Anna for that matter? She preferred to stay out of their business the best she could; the least they could do would be to reciprocate and leave her the bleedin' hell alone, especially now.

"Well she shouldn't 'ave asked, and it's got nothin' to do with you either, Mr. Bates. Anna can speak for 'erself, y'know. She always did before _you_ turned up."

She left them to it, fleeing the Servant's Hall for the familiar safety of the yard where she process the news in peace. No doubt she'd be the sole topic of their scornful gossip for the remainder of afternoon tea – and they thought _she_ was bad – but she had an appointment with a fag.

* * *

><p>Cora Crawley had taken to retiring to her room in the time between breakfast and evening dinner which seemed to endlessly drag. It was impossible not to make something of an appearance during the day, for the sake of morale - it would do Downton little good if its mistress was to shut herself away indefinitely. So she tried her best to be involved in things, and to limited success. Her lack of desire for Robert's company was better left unsaid, and lately even the <em>girls<em> exhausted her.

Sybil was filled with a boundless enthusiasm for the changes that were apparently imminent in society, and, though Cora tried to indulge her, she simply couldn't find the strength to long for a new world when all she really wanted was a return to the comfortable world she had known before. Mary was trying to fill the role Cora had left vacant by her physical and mental absence, finding time to deal with Mrs Hughes and welcoming visitors to the house with a courtesy and deportment she had learnt from years of observation, but Cora found her pride was not whole. She hated that her daughter was prematurely thrust into this role and a small part of her still longed for the child she had lost, her boy, her heir, and she wished in those moments that Mary would never be the Countess of Grantham, and that nobody but her son would be Earl. And Edith, her beautiful Edith who wanted nothing more than her mother's attention…Cora could barely stand to be in the same room with her.

The only face she seemed to want to see these days was the one belonging to the woman she was contemplating summoning well before the dressing gong, a woman who would probably have to drag herself from the comfort of the servant's hall and a cup of tea to attend to her, and would do so without the slightest hesitation. Poor O'Brien … she really was rather sweet in her own way, and Cora couldn't imagine surviving the last few weeks, months, _years_ without her. She certainly wouldn't have survived the death of her child.

It plagued her still, more than she liked to admit, even almost two years later, but it wasn't just _her_ that had suffered; Robert had grieved too, but not with her. The only person he seemed to let his guard down around these days was Bates, and she was damned if she knew why. Cora _still_ couldn't fathom his fondness for a man who could barely do his job, Batman or not, even all these years later, when he had done nothing but complain about O'Brien from the second she had hired her! She was efficient, she was loyal, she was honest, and, if none of those other qualities were evidence enough of her worth, she had stayed by her side, holding her hand during every agonising second of her son's birth. It couldn't have been easy, but she had not complained once. She had stroked her hair and let her scream, all the while chanting comforting nonsense that Cora barely heard but that soothed her all the same. She had been different since that day, blaming herself no doubt and Cora couldn't bear the thought of O'Brien feeling even a moment of guilt over something she had not been able to prevent.

Maybe they could suffer together?

She rang the bell.

* * *

><p>What Sarah wouldn't give for Thomas now. A fag in the yard and a good old rant about Bates and Anna would do her the world of good, but instead she stood alone, with her last bloody cigarette for a while – this rationing was already doing her head in – and the content of the miserable sodding letter ringing in her ears. Her brother was dead. Her youngest, <em>favourite<em> brother that had never wanted to fight in the first place was dead. And he wouldn't be, if they hadn't sent him home from the front with shell shock and sent him right back again! She screwed the letter up in her hand and took an unnecessarily long drag of her cigarette, but it was all she could do to quell her nerves. She couldn't stop her hand from shaking though, or her heart from racing as she thought about her brother lying dead in some makeshift hospital, or being tossed in some grave in the middle of nowhere. Had he died immediately? Or days, maybe even _weeks_ later, after suffering from his wounds? Had anyone even be there for him at the end? As fond as she was of Thomas, if _all_ army medics were like him she didn't reckon Alfie had much in the way of comfort at the end.

She thought about her father. If she'd got the telegram from the war office, did Melvyn O'Brien even know his son was dead? He'd been working so bloody hard since the boys had gone, but always with the hope they'd return. The first O'Brien casualty, and Alfie too, would hit him hard and it would fall to her to tell him; Sarah didn't even know if she could bear the look on his face, let alone the questions.

How the bloody hell would they keep the farm going?

She could hardly see her sisters-in-law picking up their skirts and muddying their boots; they were the ditzy kind, who wouldn't be caught dead milking a cow, and the oldest of her small army of nieces and nephews was twelve. Young enough to avoid the call thank god, but much too young to be put to work on his grandfather's land. And they could hardly hire workers; the family barely had enough money to support themselves, never mind strangers! Sarah sent almost every penny she earned back to her father, and it still wouldn't be enough.

She could ask for a raise. Cora would probably give it to her too, but it wasn't up to her, and his lordship would rather have her sacked than paid more money, and she would never give him the reason he needed to have her tossed out and away from her lady. Anyway, it wouldn't be enough; what her father really needed was experienced hands that would work for nothing, and who was there?

Her mother would have never stood for this. Madge O'Brien would have been on the first bloody ship out to give the Germans a piece of her mind; Sarah would have rated their chances of winning the war highly if she had. She'd never been one to mess with, and maybe if she'd lived Alfie would have stood a chance of survival; she'd gone out of this world giving him life in the first place, was it really likely she'd let King and bloody country take it away?

"Miss O'Brien."

She closed her eyes. What the bloody hell was it now? She took a long drag of her cigarette for strength and expelled the smoke in a sigh.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?"

Who else would interrupt her mid-afternoon cigarette without blinking, and no doubt she'd heard about the mysterious letter that had shaken up miserable old O'Brien herself. As usual, Hughsie looked mightily pleased with herself. What did she have to be so pleased about? What did anyone have to be pleased about these days? The older woman rounded the corner with an arched eyebrow and pursed lips, briefly looking disdainfully in the direction of the cigarette before meeting her eyes.

"It's her ladyship's bell."

"Now?"

It wasn't even close to the dressing gong; what could Cora possibly want at this time of the day? She felt a prickle down her spine. She wasn't ready to face the other woman yet, not least because she stank of smoke, but her ladyship was sharper than she looked and she didn't have a chance in hell of hiding her misery from her.

"Now, Miss O'Brien," Hughes echoed dryly. Her lips were a thin line. "Unless you'd prefer me to tell her you're _much_ too busy?"

Sarah tightened her jaw. The last thing she needed right now was sass from Elsie Hughes, but at least that was one thing in this house that hadn't changed. Everything else had.

"I'll go up," she muttered, taking one last puff and stubbing the cigarette out on the nearby bench. There was no way Cora wouldn't know she'd been having a fag, but if she didn't know by now then she really was a daft cow.

She couldn't summon up anything but fondness for the other woman though, and let the extinguished cigarette fall to the floor with an irritated sigh. When had she become this simpering woman who dropped everything to attend to Cora's needs and was _glad_ to do it? She'd just lost her brother but she still ran to her mistress' side like she was all that mattered in the world.

When had she started caring so bloody much?

_When you killed her child, you miserable cow_.

It was deeper than that, but she was hardly going to analyze her deepest, darkest feelings now when she had a job to do, and she owed Cora punctuality at the very least.


	2. Chapter 2

The minute Sarah came through the door she knew something was wrong. Something usually was these days, and her mistress' face was notably darker than usual. The Countess clearly hadn't slept; she'd surmised as much this morning when she'd arrived with her breakfast and seen the dark circles underneath her eyes. And as for his lordship, the stupid git had clearly spent the night in his own room.

Sometimes she wondered whether Lord Grantham had any bloody sense at all, but that was too easy, even for her. Any man who forced his wife to attend a bleedin' _garden party_ when it wasn't a week since she'd lost her child was clearly barking mad, and, not only that, he didn't deserve her either. Sarah had seen how Cora had suffered that day; the memory of her face, of the touch of her hand and the _"dear O'Brien"_ was practically burned into her memory now. The same expression was haunting her face now, and Sarah knew instinctively that her mistress was reliving it all. Some days Sarah wished she had the courage to tell Cora what she had done. At least then she wouldn't blame _herself_ for the death of her child, and that was what plagued her the most; if only I hadn't slipped, if only I'd been more careful, if only, if only, if only. If only _she_ hadn't been such a spiteful, bitter cow Lady Grantham's son would be alive, and Cora would be able to sleep at night.

She gave the Countess her best smile – funny, she never _used_ to smile, not even falsely, but these days she'd do anything for Cora – closing the door behind her.

"What can I do for you m'lady?"

Cora couldn't help the sigh of relief that slipped from her lips at the sight of the other woman. She was beginning to feel much too miserable on her own, and O'Brien's presence usually worked wonders in bringing her mood back up to some sort of normal, placid level.

She smiled warmly from her place at the vanity table. She'd been attempting to braid her hair; it seemed silly that she could barely do something so simple, and she'd needed something to distract her from her wandering mind in the time it took O'Brien to reach her once she'd rung the bell. As usual, it had taken her barely any time at all, and she'd not got much further than the first few steps.

"Oh...nothing, O'Brien. Not really."

She was definitely in one of her funny moods again, and Sarah shuffled closer knowingly. She wanted to put her hand on her shoulder, but these days she didn't know how familiar she was permitted to be. She'd been with her in the worst hours of her life after all; was a hand on a shoulder really too familiar? But the last time she'd thought that, that Cora might think enough of her to call her a _friend_, she'd been sorely disappointed, and the words perilously close still haunted her, even to this day.

"Would you like some company, m'lady?"

She had read her mind again. O'Brien was unnervingly good at that. And oh dear, she'd caught her mid-cigarette. Cora recognized the tell-tale scent lingering on the other woman's clothes. She found it oddly comforting, and associated it utterly with the woman who had been her rock for near-on two decades.

"Only if you're not busy, of course." She offered the other woman a tentative smirk. "I wouldn't want you in trouble with Mrs. Hughes."

"I only 'ave to breathe to get in trouble with Mrs. Hughes, m'lady."

Perhaps she'd gone too far? Cora was fond of the housekeeper after all, she'd kept her around for long enough, and as far as her ladyship knew, Hughes was perfectly fair. And she was…to a degree. She always had a bone to pick with _her_, and she didn't doubt it had more than a bit to do with her outranking the woman at the very beginning. She might be fair to most, but Elsie Hughes didn't half hold a grudge!

To her relief the Countess laughed – genuine laughter that warmed her heart and made her smile too. Cora's laughter was scarce these days, and Sarah couldn't help but be pleased with herself, soppy sod she was, for managing to produce it in the first place, even with the telegram still dominating her thoughts. She moved over, seeing Cora struggling with the mess she imagined was supposed to be a braid, and took hold of the locks instead. It would be a good distraction, hair always was, but then her fingers slid over the other woman's, and for a moment she stopped.

She'd been attending to Cora for _years_, but lately things seemed different. Her stomach fluttered with the prospect of the bell ringing, and her heart hammered in her chest, but not quite as hard as it did now.

"Don't worry O'Brien, I'll vouch for you."

"I know m'lady. You always 'ave."

They exchanged a smile in the mirror, one that warmed Cora's heart and made Sarah's flutter. She looked away uncomfortably, wondering why it had all been so much more difficult lately, why every touch felt more meaningful, and every look made her heart pound like a bloody jack in the box; guilt she supposed. She wasn't surprised she couldn't look Lady Grantham in the eye after what she'd done.

Cora frowned in concern at the look. They'd been having such a lovely time, and something had changed. In fact, how had she not noticed before that O'Brien seemed different entirely? Her shoulders were tense, her smile was strained, and the warmth in her eyes, though there as always, was dulled. Had she done something wrong? She couldn't recall doing anything that O'Brien might find objectionable. Lady Rosamund hadn't visited recently after all, and it was only then she had to ask a little more of O'Brien than usual. And there had been no more confrontations since the incident in the Servant's Hall three years ago that still made her flush with shame.

"O'Brien, are you well?"

Bollocks. Not only had Anna bloody Smith noticed she was under the weather, but now her ladyship had too, and whilst she could tell Anna to sod off and go and sulk with a cigarette in the yard, she certainly couldn't do the same to Cora Crawley. But the Countess had her own problems, she didn't need to worry about her too.

"I am m'lady."

She hoped that, accompanied by a smile, would do, but from the look on Cora's face she doubted it, and she was right. Cora looked back at her suspiciously, and couldn't help the hurt she felt in her chest. O'Brien never usually spoke about herself – it was a trait most ladies would find very agreeable indeed, but not her. She enjoyed the vague snippets of O'Brien's life before Downton that she deigned to share with her, but they were few and far between. This was different though – something was very clearly wrong, and O'Brien was refusing to share.

"O'Brien, I should like to think you would trust me enough to confide in me if something was wrong."

"Of _course_ I trust you, m'lady!"

The words exploded from her like thunder and she momentarily blushed. She hadn't meant to be quite so forceful but she would never have her lady thinking she didn't _trust_ her. There'd been a time Sarah might have scoffed at the very notion – she'd trusted her in the past and been burnt – but things were different now. She'd trust Cora with her life and she hoped to god the Countess felt the same because she'd walk through bloody fire for her a thousand times over just to keep her safe from harm.

There was nothing else for it then; she had to tell her.

She reached into her pocket, retrieving the scrunched up piece of paper that she'd hidden hastily before joining her mistress, and passed it to Cora with a shaky hand.

Cora frowned softly as she accepted the telegram, unfolding it with utter delicacy and reached out to take the other woman's trembling hand; she had never seen her hand shake, not once in ten years of service and it scared her almost as much as the madness in France did. She held on tighter, gripping it just like Sarah had done for her when she'd lost her son, as she read the telegram. The words were so carelessly and messily scribbled it might be nothing more than an invitation to dinner.

"_Deeply regret inform you that A M O'Brien died of wounds August 22nd. The Army Council express their deepest sympathy."_

Cora looked up, her heart aching for the woman doing her damn best to hold herself together, to be the tower of strength she usually was, but understandably failing. O'Brien had mentioned Alfie before, more than anybody else in fact, and each time Cora hadn't missed the wealth of affection lurking behind her voice. She could practically imagine him now – so young and full of life, tossing leaves onto a burning bonfire with the same smile Cora saw everyday on her maid's beautiful face. And he was dead, like so many others, and O'Brien had lost her brother.

"I'm sorry." The words felt so utterly hollow to her ears, but what else to say? She understood? She didn't. Her husband was here, her daughter's too, and Cousin Matthew at least had the protection of his rank. "I'm _so_ sorry."

"He was nineteen years old, an' they sent 'im 'ome five weeks ago with shellshock."

Sarah's lips curled up in a bitter smile. Just three weeks ago he'd been alive – he'd been a little worse for wear but at least he'd been _alive_. She'd held him in her bloody arms and told him everything was going to be alright, and now he was dead.

"They gave 'im two weeks to 'rest' an' called him back. He could barely sleep through the night without screamin'; 'e was a _mess_ but they still called him back, and now 'e's gone for good."

"Oh, _O'Brien_."

Cora reacted before she even knew what she was doing and leaned in, wrapping her arms around Sarah and pulling her close, resting one hand against her back and the other stroking her hair. She'd done this before of course, but it didn't happen often. She told Sarah practically _everything_ yet she could count the number of times they'd embraced on one hand. Tears pricked at her own eyes at the feel of Sarah trying _so _hard to fight the grief she could feel was consuming her from the shaking of her body. She'd always been so strong before, so utterly impenetrable and sometimes the only thing keeping her together, but now she was grieving, and Cora knew she couldn't make that any better but she could do _this_.

Sarah faltered, stunned momentarily by the feel of another body against hers, soft and warm and offering precisely the kind of comfort she usually neglected to allow herself. But she soon sank into it, reveling in the warmth and security of Cora's arms and allowed herself to bury her face in her mistress' neck.

"Does the rest of your family know?" Cora asked after a long moment of silence, stroking Sarah's back and holding her close. Her chief motive was to offer Sarah comfort of course, but she couldn't help but revel in it herself. She couldn't remember the last time Robert had held her like this; they'd been much too busy and much too distant and she didn't _mind _exactly – Robert was worried about Matthew and disappointed he couldn't fight, and she would hardly begrudge him that, even if it meant he remained safe at Downton with her – but she wouldn't deny that she'd missed it.

"I don't think so, m'lady. They sent the telegram to me, so my Dad…" His son was dead and Melvyn O'Brien didn't have a clue.

"You should go and see him."

"My next 'alf day isn't for weeks yet-"

"Your half day? Goodness O'Brien, what you must think of me! You'll go there tomorrow. Branson will drive you, and you will stay for as long as you need to."

"But _you_ need me, m'lady, I couldn't-"

"Nonsense. After everything you've done for me, I'd be a monster if I didn't allow you to be with your family after _this_. I'll manage without you – Anna might be useless with corsets, but she's capable. I'll make do."

"_Thank_ you, m'lady. My father'll need some 'elp, and there's not really anyone. I don't know 'ow 'e'll manage the farm on his own. My other brother's 're off at the front, stupid sods, an' their wives aren't much good for farmin'. The only person that could possibly be of any 'elp to 'im at all is…"

"You," Cora finished. O'Brien was going to leave her; she realized it the second the other woman did, and her chest swelled with sudden pain. Their eyes met at the same time their hands did, and to Sarah it was as if she'd read that telegram all over again, like she'd lost another person almost as dear to her as Alfie, maybe even _ just_ as dear. Her entire life for the last decade had revolved around Cora Crawley in every single bloody way, and to lose her now…

"I don't want to leave you, m'lady, I've been 'appy here."

And Cora had never been happier than she had with Sarah here, and the prospect of losing her broke her heart but she would _not_ be that selfish.

"But your father needs you." She smiled as warmly as she could, despite the pain in her chest. She so desperately wished she could be more like her mother-in-law and demand Sarah stay no matter what, but she was no Violet Crawley and she _cared_ about Sarah so much more than Violet had Simmons or any of the others that came before and after her. "I understand O'Brien; did you think I would be cross with you?"

She squeezed Cora's hand, smiling with all the warmth she could manage to salvage out of the crippling sadness. "Of course not, m'lady. I'm grateful for your understanding." She took in a deep breath. "Shall I dress you now, m'lady?

"You're not going to dress me O'Brien, that's not important now."

Cora moved over to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside her and Sarah reluctantly followed, not because she didn't want to join her, but she didn't think she could handle another heart to heart. Her chest bloody burnt enough as it was!

"Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?"

Sarah sniffled and something immediately sprung to mind. Something wild and mad and something she'd be embarrassed to say out loud in her more lucid moments but she'd heard about the soldiers of her class that died on the front and were left there, and she couldn't bear to think of her Alfie trampled thoughtlessly into the mud. She straightened her head the best she could to look Cora in the eye.

"I don't suppose...that is m'lady, is there any chance his lordship could find out if there's a body to bury? I don't suppose my Dad'll be able to afford it but it'd be nice to know 'e was buried…if 'e could be found."

Cora's heart broke more for Sarah in that moment than it had for anyone else before, with the exception of the son that had never had the chance to breathe his first gasp of air. She took her hand again, grasping it tightly and with the strength of all of the pain she felt for the other woman and gave her a decisive nod.

"I'll do anything I can for you, and-" Cora held Sarah's eyes and tried her hardest to communicate every bit of fondness and warmth she had for her, "if there _is_ something I can do your father won't have to worry about the costs associated. That'll be taken care of, I assure you."

Sarah squeezed Cora's hand tighter and shook her head, riddled still with all the airs of servitude that she couldn't seem to break out of regardless of how absurdly close they'd seemingly grown.

"No m'lady, I couldn't. It'd be too much to ask of you and his lordship, you're already doing so much with the hospital."

She felt a sudden wave of sorrow and couldn't help but wonder – if Alfie had been a richer man, better stationed in life, would he be in that hospital now, recovering from his injuries? She didn't know Doctor Clarkson particularly well, she'd had no need to other than the accident really, but she didn't think he was the sort of man who'd be stupid enough to send a man clearly still suffering back to the front. She managed a small smile for Cora, wan and watery, but grateful all the same.

"There's very little you can ask me that I'll regard as 'too much'," Cora persisted. She patted Sarah's hand affectionately. "But we don't need to discuss that now."


	3. Chapter 3

Three hours later, Sarah was just about packed and ready to leave at first light. Her room had been stripped practically bare of the character it had developed over the last twelve years; there was nothing left but bed sheets and furniture and the occasional article of clothing of Cora's that had somehow made its way into her room. The bloody woman had so many clothes it was little wonder they were strewn all over _her_ room; there'd been no space left in her own wardrobe, and her maid's had been the next best place for them. She had few outfits after all – why would she need them, when she practically never left the house? – just the two black dresses and a couple of finer ones, all donated by Cora of course, when she herself had tired of them. She used to hate her for them, for the hand-me-downs. They reminded her so starkly of everything Cora had that she'd never been blessed with save for when her mistress was feeling especially charitable, and Sarah had never liked charity.

There was one in particular though, the one she loved the best, which had been bought specifically _for_ her by her mistress. It was a beautiful chocolate color that apparently brought out her eyes (Thomas had laughed and laughed at that one); she'd never seen it herself, but Lady Grantham had been the one to say it and she supposed she'd know these things better than her. All she remembered is how the compliment made her feel inside. She remembered it even now, and how she'd never felt as beautiful as she did in that moment with the Countess holding the dress against her body and beaming like she really _did_ think her beautiful, no matter how unlikely that was. She brushed her fingers over it as she folded it with far more care than she'd ever afforded anything else she possessed, and felt all those feelings flooding back like Cora was here right now and presenting it to her all over again.

"You're leaving us then, Miss O'Brien?"

Sarah's hand flew to her chest and she released a hissed curse of surprise as she whirled round, glare at the ready, to face a very amused looking Mrs. Hughes. Of _course_ it would be Mrs. Hughes; there was no one else in this miserable place that would dare venture into her private sanctuary save Thomas and Cora, and the former was a long way away somewhere in the middle of France, and the latter…it was best not to think about her. It hurt too sodding much. She clenched her jaw, refusing to give the housekeeper the satisfaction of her ire, and turned back to her packing, reluctantly putting down the dress in her hands and attending to the few books she possessed instead.

"Seems so, Mrs. Hughes. 'm needed elsewhere."

She glanced at the other woman out of the corner of her eye as she stepped through the doorway and fully into her room, smiling insufferably in bemusement. It was bad enough she had to leave but the last thing she needed was Elsie Hughes coming to gloat.

Hughes nodded. "And how long will you be gone?"

Sarah's silence was probably answer enough and she focused on packing with a vengeance. The quicker she packed the less likely she was to change her mind, no matter how much she wanted to.

"I see," Hughes began in understanding. "Well, I can't pretend I won't enjoy the peace and quiet."

Sarah opened her mouth crossly to interject.

"_But_," Hughes smirked, "I rather hope you _do_ come back to us." She took her hand with a meaningful look. "To her."

Sarah wanted to tell her to stop being so stupid; Lady Grantham would be fine without her, she'd probably be _happier_ with a more obedient maid who her husband didn't hate – someone younger, and with softer hands – but god help her, the thought of leaving Cora hurt nearly as much as losing Alfie. Of _course_ Cora needed her; the sodding woman couldn't do anything for herself, she could barely even stir her tea, and worse than that what about her _emotional_ welfare? Her smiles were few and far between and the last thing she needed was to lose her confidante, but what else was she supposed to do? Leave her father to work himself to death?

"Is that all you came 'ere to say, Mrs. Hughes?" she grit her teeth and ripped her hand away, but for fuck's sake Hughes' smile didn't even waver. Why the bloody hell did she have to always be so smug and all-knowing anyway?

"That's all, Miss O'Brien." She paused – she had as much of a bloody flair for dramatics as the Dowager Countess herself! "And to wish you luck."

Bloody hell, was she beginning to get a bit misty-eyed? Sarah quickly chalked it down to irritation, or dust in her eye or something equally as plausible, because lord knows she wasn't crying over leaving _Elsie Hughes_. Of all the people she'd miss, Sarah certainly wouldn't miss her, and even if she did – which she bloody didn't! – she would _never_ admit it, least of all to the old battle axe herself.

"Same to you." Sarah sighed as she felt herself cave, affording Hughes the honour – and it _was_ an honour – of a brief smirk. The housekeeper wasn't that bad really, all things considered; she wasn't Bates after all. "You'll need it with me gone."

"Oh I don't know about that, Miss O'Brien. I imagine it will be nice to have a lady's maid that actually listens to a word I say."

Sarah arched a challenging eyebrow. "I've never answered to you, Mrs. Hughes; I answer to her ladyship an' no one else."

"Not anymore you don't. She's not your mistress anymore, O'Brien."

Sarah turned back to her suitcase with a snort of something resembling agreement, allowing her fingers to brush over the soft brown material of the dress for a moment longer before she packed it into the bag with the rest of her life – the life she'd shared with her – and zipped it up as abruptly as she tried to bury the feelings consuming her chest.

She might not work for Cora Crawley anymore, but god help her she would _always _be her mistress.

* * *

><p>Sarah had decided to walk to the station, rather than have her mistress arrange for the car. She'd already been enough trouble and last night it had seemed impossible for her to have to face Cora again and see the disappointment on her face. She felt differently now though, and the regret was almost as crippling as the loss she already felt, after less than a bloody day away from the other woman! Thomas would laugh himself silly, but she couldn't help but mourn like she was losing a bleedin' limb.<p>

The most important thing was that her father would have some help; at least that's what she kept telling herself to stop herself from turning back and going straight back to Downton and never leaving again. Besides, there was nothing for her at Downton, not really. Nobody was here to see her off – as if she'd expected anyone anyway, not with Thomas off at war and even then she'd have been surprised to have him show up – and the only person she gave a damn about she didn't think she'd be able to face right now anyway.

She'd go back to Scouthead and pick up her old life as if she'd never left, but she could never forget, not one bit of it, even the bad times, and hadn't there been plenty of them?

She pushed open the gate and walked the short few steps to the platform. She was cutting it bloody fine, but she had never been one for waiting. What she saw there made her stop dead.

"M'lady?"

Bloody hell, she'd come to see her off. And not only that, the daft woman had woken up at the break of dawn, quite obviously dressed herself – she'd missed at _least_ three buttons on her bodice – and done absolutely nothing with her hair, save stick a few pins in. She was an absolute bloody mess but the most _glorious_ one Sarah had ever laid eyes on. She'd never been so beautiful in twelve long years of service, and Sarah had seen all of her and then some. Sarah drew in a breath as her mistress turned to face her in the morning sunshine, and her heart nearly burst at her smile.

"_Dear_ O'Brien."

Cora drew closer, grasping her hands tightly in front of her body – it was the only thing stopping her from throwing her arms around the other woman and refusing to let go – and smiled warmly. Sarah had been so determined to have her stay at Downton but, for the first time in over a decade, Cora had no intention of listening to her maid. She'd had the kitchen-maid wake her up at the break of dawn – the poor girl had been so bewildered and terrified at being approached; Cora had never thought herself _that_ scary – and for the first time in she couldn't remember how long she had dressed herself. It had been more difficult than she'd remembered, but then she'd always found buttons tricky, but she'd managed it somehow, spurred on no doubt by the terrifying possibility of missing Sarah's train and depriving herself of the chance to say goodbye to the woman who had been so much more than a maid for the last twelve years.

She had waited on the platform for nearly half an hour, petrified she'd somehow missed the train and dressed herself for nothing, but here Sarah was, in the very dress she herself had bought her. It looked more beautiful on her than she'd remembered it looking in the shop. Oh god, how would she ever cope without her?

"I wanted to make sure you caught your train. They can be notoriously unreliable and-"

She had barely finished her sentence before she found herself enveloped in Sarah's strong arms and pressed against a warm, solid body. The autumn chill melted away just as quickly as her surprise, and she buried her face in the warmth of the other woman's neck, clinging to her just as desperately, as if her touch alone could keep her rooted to this very spot.

"I refuse to let you leave me without saying goodbye, you foolish woman," she sniffed, clinging tighter and Sarah laughed shakily, tightening her grip on Cora and allowed herself the liberty of brushing her fingers through her hair like she'd done every night for almost two decades; it could very well be her last chance and if this was the last time she'd ever see her she'd be damned if she didn't say goodbye properly. She wanted to remember every single line on her face, every perfect bloody curve of her body, even the _smell_ of her.

"You were never very good at listenin' to me, m'lady," she choked out, smiling despite the pain in her chest. "I don't know why 'm surprised."

She'd cut it fine though. Sarah had never been very good at waiting, but she'd have been here like a bloody shot if she'd known. How long could they have had together if she'd been like every other normal sod and turned up in advance for her train, instead of waiting to the very last bleedin' moment to make an appearance? She could even hear the fucking train approaching!

"I'm _so_ sorry, m'lady. I should've-"

She broke off abruptly at the feel of soft lips, the softest she'd ever felt, against her cheek, and something stirred inside her unlike anything she'd ever felt before.

"Take care of yourself…Sarah," Cora whispered as she pulled back, smiling tremulously.

Sarah sucked in a shaky breath, doing the best she could to smile back as her heart did a dozen bloody back flips inside her chest. It was the first time in so long that Cora had used her Christian name and that, coupled with the kiss, made her dizzy with emotion. "An' you too m'lady. You tell me if Anna needs whippin' into shape an' I'll be back 'ere like a shot. She's never looked after a _real_ lady before, not a Countess anyway, an' she thinks there's nothin' more to it than sewin' on buttons."

Cora laughed hoarsely, sliding her hand up to Sarah's cheek and brushed her thumb over her skin. Her heart twisted in pain as the train finally came into view, signaling an end to their time together with an ominous and damned inconvenient whistle, and she patted down Sarah's hair carefully and smoothed down the creases in her bodice. "I'll try and be patient, but there's nobody, _nobody_, quite like you."

Sarah swallowed, leaning in to the hand pressing against her cheek and felt the traitorous flutter of her heart. She hadn't felt like this for so long she could barely remember the last time, but she felt it now in the violent spasm of her heart and the heat suddenly flooding into her cheeks.

"I feel the same, m'lady."

She smiled unsteadily, covering the hand resting against her cheek and squeezed the other woman's fingers softly before reluctantly letting go. Her father was expecting her, no matter how long she'd stay here given half a bloody chance and basking in the warmth of her ladyship's gaze, and the train had already pulled into the platform. If she didn't leave now she never would.

"I'll write m'lady," she muttered, pulling back reluctantly from the touch of her hand and picking up the suitcase sitting by her side.

Cora nodded, forcing a smile and took a step back. "I'll hold you to that, O'Brien. I may not be your mistress anymore, but I very much hope I'm still your friend."

'Friend' was far too simple for what her ladyship was to her, and it wasn't until Sarah was safely on the train with her luggage in the appropriate compartment and some miserable bastard's legs knocking against hers, until Cora was nothing more than a magnificent speck on the horizon engulfed in the smoke of the train, that the realization hit her, splintering her foolish heart into a million sodding pieces.

How long had she been in love with Cora Crawley?

God knows she'd been fond of her lately – even Thomas had noticed before he'd buggered off to France – but she'd felt so much more for the other woman over the past year that was suddenly made frighteningly real by Cora's lips on her cheek, and like a bloody thunderbolt she knew _precisely_ how she felt.

The last time she'd felt this was Mickey and even then she hadn't felt like _this_. And now she was on a train en route to bloody Scouthead; would she ever see Cora again?

Maybe this was for the best. She didn't have a chance in hell with her ladyship – even if they weren't both women, she wasn't good enough for her – and she couldn't work for her now anyway, couldn't strip her down to her nothing but her skin without wanting to do so much more.

Scouthead was the place for her now, even if her heart would always be at Cora's side.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry about the delay! I've been in Los Angeles, but I'm back now with an M rated chapter, but it's probably not the pairing you guys are hoping for. Thank you all for reading and commenting :)

* * *

><p>It was only later that night, when she'd finally retired to her bedroom and <em>without<em> her husband, and Anna had come and gone to undress her, that Cora allowed herself the luxury of tears.

She survived the remainder of the day on autopilot. She joined her family for breakfast, she had luncheon with her mother-in-law, she attended to her correspondence and met with Mrs. Patmore as if she hadn't just lost her confidante. Robert would no doubt scoff once he realized just how aggrieved she was and berate her for her selfishness when men were _dying_ in France whilst Cousin Matthew fought amongst them, but he had never understood. Bates was no Sarah O'Brien, he could barely even do his job, and Robert had never understood that Sarah was as much her family as Rosamund was, and maybe even more so!

Cora suddenly caught sight of something on the mantelpiece, something she had missed entirely before, but recognized the neat script immediately. She frowned and tossed the covers unconcernedly from her body, pushing herself up and very nearly stumbled over herself in her hurry to reach the mantelpiece. Cora curled her fingers tentatively around the piece of paper, as carefully as she would handle glass. Lord knows how she had neglected to notice it before – Sarah had been gone since the early morning after all, but she'd spent the majority of the day bothering Mrs. Hughes downstairs in a fruitless attempt to distract herself from the misery practically crushing her chest, and she'd left the house so suddenly this morning in the hopes of catching Sarah that she'd obviously missed it.

It was quite obviously a letter, the first of many Cora hoped, and she sliced it open with all the care she could muster amongst the desperate enthusiasm to read the words enclosed. It was just as short as she'd expected – O'Brien had never been one for words – but what it did say, no matter how short, brought goddamn tears to her eyes _again_.

_Your ladyship,_

_By the time you read this I'll be gone. I say that like I'm running away but the truth is if I had a choice there's nowhere I'd rather be than at Downton Abbey with you. I wouldn't take any of it back my lady._

There was a dot then, a notable smudge where the pen had obviously wavered, and Cora imagined quite a lot of thought had gone into the next sentence.

_I haven't always been good to you my lady and I've never deserved you and there are some things I'll never forgive myself for, but I've always tried to be the best maid I can be. _

_Try to eat something while I'm gone, will you? I hope I'm not being impertinent but you're a skinny thing as it is._

_Yours always,_

_Sarah O'Brien._

Having finished reading, Cora folded up the letter carefully, closing her eyes for a moment as she held it against her chest and breathed deeply, in and out. She had no idea when she would see Sarah again, but the day wouldn't come soon enough.

She slipped the letter underneath her pillow and laid her head down upon it, but lord knew there would be no sleep tonight. And somewhere, deep in Lancashire, she suspected the same to be truth for O'Brien.

* * *

><p>It didn't take Sarah long to settle back into life in Scouthead. Her father was just the same as he always had been – a miserable beggar, but still with a sense of humour so sharp it sometimes took her by surprise – and so was every other bugger who had ever lived there. She still recognised most faces in the village; childhood playmates, old classmates, the little boy from next door who she'd shared her first kiss with. But some faces were notably absent, boys her brothers had grown up with; it was like the village of the Valkyries, and the sense of loss was palpable.<p>

She hadn't forgotten Cora. On the contrary, she thought of her every bloody day, morning, afternoon and night, like she was cursed to forever recall her beautiful face and the curves of her body and how she had felt in her arms.

"I don't understand why we 'ave to go into the village to collect our own bloody mail," Sarah muttered darkly as she strolled along the path to the village with he father. Life out here had always been slow but not _this_ slow and there was so much to do back at the farm it seemed daft they had to leave and come all the way into town. But it was worth it for an hour or two like this with her Dad.

Mel snorted. "You know full well what they're like; lazy beggars, the lot of 'em."

His voice didn't have quite the same bite as usual though and Sarah arched her brow; her father wasn't one for suffering fools this lightly.

"What about Bert? The gangly one who used to deliver it?"

It had been years since she'd lived here, but Sarah still remembered the lot of them, generations of men and women that had lived in this village since the dark ages, and they remembered her too. They'd been stopped six times en route to the village, and if one more person called her 'Sass' she'd swing for them.

"S'gone. They called 'im up last month," Mel muttered, and squeezed Sarah's arm affectionately.

All of his lads were off in France and he'd lost one already, but he still had his Sarah, and thank god for that. He'd never believed in all of that sons being superior nonsense, and there'd never been a finer child than his girl.

"But he's a _child_."

"e's nineteen." Sarah and her father shared a meaningful look. "Most of the young lads were called up around the time that Alfie-"

Sarah squeezed his arm in support.

"But Bert only turned eighteen a month ago."

"I bet 'is Ma is beside 'erself."

"They're _all_ beside themselves. There's not a mother in the village who 'asn't lost someone to the war. Even if they're not dead yet."

"Bert can take care of 'imself. 'e kicked me last time I was 'ere."

Mel smirked and tightened his arm through hers, but the easy silence was interrupted by a voice behind them.

"Sarah?"

She meant it. If someone else called her bloody Sass she'd hit the roof, but this voice was achingly familiar and she recognised him immediately as she turned. It all seemed a lifetime ago now, but here he was in the flesh, looking like not a single day had gone by, and for a moment she was back in 1903.

"Bloody 'ell...Mickey Briggs?" His eyes creased in a grin, and Sarah's heart fluttered. He was still a handsome bastard, even after all of this time. "I thought you'd gone off to the coast to set up an 'otel."

Mickey smiled ruefully and gave an embarrassed shrug. "It didn't work out." He fixed his eyes on hers suddenly and her breath caught. Still the same deep shade of blue; she must have a thing of blue eyes, god help her. "When 'ave I ever been able to do anythin' without _your_ 'elp?"

Sarah snorted and conceded the point.

"I 'aven't seen you since..."

"Since you broke my 'eart and left me to be a lady's maid?" Mickey smirked slightly and Sarah flushed pink. "'ow did that work out?"

She hesitated. "Better than I ever expected," Sarah muttered with a sad smile. There had been some bad times and some miserable ones, but it had all been worth it in the end.

"'re you back in town for good, lad?"

"I 'aven't decided yet. You know me. I like to play things by ear."

"You got time to come back an' 'ave some dinner with us?" He looked rather _too_ pointedly between Sarah and Mickey and she fought the urge to roll her eyes at how obvious he was being, but her father had always been so fond of Mickey and, although he never voiced it, disappointed in her when she had broken off the engagement.

Mickey looked to her for approval and she didn't have the heart to say no with the full force of those wonderful blue eyes on hers and the familiar boyish smile that still made her slightly weak at the knees. Besides, her father had never been one for not getting his own way, and Mickey would come for dinner whether she liked it or not.

"You can peel the potatoes," she smirked.

Mickey smiled broadly, his eyes full of hope, and for the first time since she had left Downton Abbey her heart felt light.

* * *

><p>"Have you given my suggestion any thought, my dear?"<p>

Truthfully, Cora had given precious little thought other than the issue of her missing maid and the void that she had left in her wake. She'd been practically in mourning since O'Brien's departure – she might as well make it official and resort to the deepest and darkest recesses of her wardrobe where her mourning clothes resided. That was if they _did_ reside there. In reality she didn't have a clue where her mourning clothes were, whether they were in her bedroom or elsewhere. O'Brien had handled each and every article of her clothing within a stringent system that only she herself truly understood, and there had been little time before her departure for the other woman to impart all she knew upon her mistress.

She sipped her tea absently. "Which suggestion?"

"Why, arranging for a new lady's maid of course. Whatever else? O'Brien's departure is a pity of course – she was an exemplary maid – but she is certainly not irreplaceable. What about that charming candidate we considered when Simmons abandoned me? The foreign girl?"

"I don't think so."

"Really Cora, you know as well as I do that _French_ maids are superior. O'Brien was admittedly very skilled indeed, but I am _sure_ we can find an adequate replacement."

"I don't _want_ to find a replace, I refuse to replace O'Brien. It's as simple as that."

"There's no need for hysterics, my dear-"

"I am not hysterical, I am being perfectly realistic. I will _not_ replace O'Brien."

Cora opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the click of the door, and the footsteps of her husband entering. He smiled his usual congenial smile of greeting, which darkened momentarily as he noticed his mother's presence. The irritation lasted a mere moment – he really was a consummate gentleman – before his smile reasserted itself and he moved into the drawing room to join his mother and wife. She could certainly sympathize; Cora couldn't remember the last time they'd enjoyed more than an hour alone as husband and wife. Even their bedtime conversations had slowly become a thing of the past, eclipsed by the realities of war and everything other thing that seemed to demand their attention with more urgency than their need for one another. Still, the sight of him warmed her heart for the first time today, and the loss of O'Brien hurt marginally less. It would return in full force later of course, but for now she resolved to change the subject and enjoy her husband's company and the restraining effect it would hopefully have on her mother-in-law's tongue.

Robert rounded her chair and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze of support. At least she could count on _Robert's_ support, no matter how little time they had together.

"Mama, I didn't realize you were visiting."

_Nor had he wanted her to_, Cora thought with a small measure of amusement, but Violet would not be silenced heavens forbid!

"I rather wish I hadn't. Cora's going American on me."

Cora rolled her eyes and refused to even dignify that with a response. She had long since hardened her heart to _those_ sorts of digs, and twenty-eight years after Violet had first begun making them she knew they were _mostly_ affectionate…mostly. Her mother-in-law could be overwhelmingly caustic, but she always meant well, no matter how brutal her manner or words. They had come a long way since that first meeting almost three decades ago, when Violet had done her utmost to discourage the match and push her as far away from her precious son as possible, but she would _never_ go as far as to say that things were smooth between them. Even a world war wouldn't change that.

"I don't see how. I simply refuse to replace O'Brien."

She heard Robert's sigh from beside her and knew from that very moment on that she would not have an ally in her husband when it came to this subject, and steeled herself against the inevitable well-mannered protest.

"Darling, you must replace O'Brien at _some_ point."

"Thank you Robert," Violet chimed in immediately with her usual triumphant aplomb, and Cora felt her patience, which was already in short supply, begin to dwindle. "You are a Countess Cora, not a _Baroness _and you must conform to the particular standards expected of you! Heavens, have I taught you nothing in the last thirty years?"

"Of course you have, you've taught me a great deal but I won't be moved on this issue. You can gather as many resumes as you like, you can organize a hundred interviews but I will not hire a single one of them."

Violet opened her mouth, but for once in thirty years Cora refused to be stopped and she cut her protests short, and pushed herself up with as much dignity as she could muster.

"That is all I will say, except to remind you this is _my_ house – mine and Robert's – and whether or not I hire a replacement lady's maid is entirely my business. Good day."

* * *

><p>He came to her late that night when she had just about given up on him, but she supposed this way they could skip the uncomfortable conversation and skip straight to sleep or whatever else they might do instead of talking. Cora looked up from the vanity table, sparing her husband a small smile that he quickly reciprocated. They might not talk as often as they used to do, but they certainly didn't lack for smiles, although sometimes Cora found herself questioning the sincerity behind them. She loved him of course, but there seemed to be something lacking now, something that hadn't been in short supply before, and she couldn't help but wonder where it had gone and when exactly they had lost it. She wondered whether Robert had noticed it too.<p>

"Come to bed, Cora," Robert murmured as he climbed into bed, and Cora found herself quickly obeying, if only to avoid a conversation. She could see the intent in his eyes and knew exactly what he wanted from her. After twenty-eight years it was difficult to mistake that particular glimmer in his eyes, and she pushed herself up from her chair, slipping her dressing gown off in preparation. It was much too hot for a dressing gown anyway; O'Brien would have never put it on her shoulders in this kind of heat, and it was yet another knock against Anna who was perfectly competent, but she simply didn't know her like O'Brien had.

"Have we had another letter from Cousin Matthew?" Cora asked gently. It was a safe question, with a certain yes or no answer. Robert could elaborate as much as he liked, but at least they would say something to each other, even if it was little more a simple yes or no.

"Not since the last." His smile was tight, concerned, and Cora wondered whether he would be quite so worried about his _own_ children.

It had been a constant complaint of hers recently, and even she was tired of hearing it. Robert could hardly accuse her of harboring bad feelings to Matthew – she'd accepted him rather admirably as part of their family, given the circumstances. Even Cousin Isobel couldn't deny her that – but her fondness for him simply did not extend to favoring the young man over her own flesh and blood. All three of their daughters needed to be settled and soon, and Mary was the biggest concern of all. She'd thrown away Evelyn Napier, Anthony Strallen, even Cousin Matthew and her virtue – one of the last cards she'd had to play – had been long since abandoned. But Robert only saw Matthew.

"I'm sure he's fine darling. He's very resourceful."

"Being resourceful doesn't stop a bullet my dear," Robert muttered, sighing heavily. But how would Cora know that? She had never fought in a war, she had never done anything more taxing than dancing a waltz. She knew nothing of sacrifice, of hard work. No; that wasn't strictly fair. His wife was anything but lazy, but there was a _war_ one and people were dying and he couldn't fight beside them, and all Cora seemed to care about was her blasted troublemaker of a maid!

He drew in a calming breath and slid his hand over her hip as she joined him in bed, drawing her closer until their thighs pressed together and Cora could feel the heat of his skin.

For one inexplicable moment she found herself fighting the urge to pull back.

She had never pulled back before, not once in their two decade long marriage unless there had been specific cause to; her monthly curse, a pregnancy. She had never even used the headache excuse her sister-in-law seemed so fond of promoting - she supposed Marmaduke had been somewhat easier to say no to than Robert - she had never found herself _needing_ to use it. Robert's touch had always been perfectly welcome, enjoyable even, but for this one moment she hesitated.

It had been a week since they had last made love, so why did she want to push him away?

"Are you alright Cora?" Robert asked softly.

Of course he had noticed. He knew her well after all. Cora nodded quickly and forced a smile, pressing a warm hand firmly against his chest and making her acquiescence perfectly clear, and sealed it with a kiss. She pressed herself against his front, effectively silencing any further inquisition - and Robert had never let things go easily, she found it ridiculously difficult to keep a secret from the man; she was rather shocked that the Pamuk business hadn't emerged yet - with her tongue. He quickly responded, sliding his hand from her hip to the small of her back and then lower, stroking the curve of her buttock affectionately.

The touch would have thrilled her before; Robert had never been one for foreplay, but then most men weren't unless they were _Rosamund's _lovers, and even then she suspected she conducted interviews before allowing somebody in her bed. But instead she felt nothing; no excitement, no anticipation, and certainly not the exquisite rush of warmth between her thighs she had become so accustomed to. She considered stopping for a moment and sharing her concerns with Robert, but he himself seemed more than adequately excited and Mama had warned her about injuring a man's ego. Instead she wrapped one long leg around her husband's waist, anchoring him close and hoped he didn't notice the lack of reaction in her _own_ body.

She was upset. That must surely be the reason. She had lost her maid and her confidante, and she would recover in time, and intimacy with Robert would be as it always was. And until it was, she would do as Rosamund had always suggested in times like these; fake it.

Wrapping her arms around Robert, she closed her eyes as he tugged up her nightdress, bunching it around her hips and hooked his fingers around her underwear. It would be a quick and hurried affair – she could sense it from the speed in which he divested her of her drawers – and she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. He slid inside her unceremoniously and she spread her legs to accommodate his girth, curling her hands around his shoulders and pressing her face into his neck. This 'faking it' business would go so much more smoothly if Robert couldn't see the lack of pleasure on her face.

No. That wasn't especially fair. It wasn't entirely without pleasure, it was just lacking in the _usual_ kind of pleasure. There was no connection between them. Her body was very much here, and she breathed into Robert's neck with every fast and clumsy thrust, but her mind, her _heart_ was somewhere else entirely. She bit her lip as he came inside her, and she had never been more relieved to have him slide free of her and roll onto his side. Surely that made her the worst kind of wife?

"Darling, we need to talk about Mary."

"Not now Cora." He slung his arm around her and pulled her close, and Cora breathed in. She felt so suddenly claustrophobic in his arms that her head span and she closed her eyes to counter the dizziness. What on earth was wrong with her?

Or rather, stop talking. That she could do. She would welcome sleep right now, anything to rid of her of the emptiness between her thighs and the pain in her heart.

"And please darling, be reasonable about this lady's maid business."

She supposed she didn't have any other choice.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: In which Cora gets a new BFF and Sarah gets a new...something else.

* * *

><p>Cora didn't know exactly what it was that had drawn her in the direction of the Servant's Hall. Even when Sarah had been here she had tended to remain upstairs in the warmth of her own drawing room, but today she found herself descending the stairs and passing numerous servants, all with the same bewildered look on their faces. Anna had been the only one not to look <em>too<em> shocked, but she supposed the girl had grown somewhat used to her ways by now. She'd sent her in the direction of the Servant's Hall with a smile, and that was precisely where she had found herself, standing in the doorway and facing her husband's new valet who, bless him, looked like some sort of poor animal caught in the middle of one of Robert's vile hunting games.

She'd spent very little time in Lang's presence – they'd barely said hello in fact, but he was already a welcome improvement over _Bates_. Robert could say precisely what he liked, he could criticize her prejudice and insult her intelligence, but it would hardly make her like the man. What was there to like in a man clearly plagued by some sort of dark, secretive past that he refused even to share with his beloved? Not to mention he went back and forth to London with more frequency than even Rosamund in her early years at Downton, and lord knows how much money her sister-in-law had spent on travel during that time.

She smiled as the other man stood to attention, and raised her hand with a benevolent inclination of her head.

"You don't have to stand. It's Lang, isn't it?"

Andrew Lang blinked in surprise. Since when did Countesses bother coming downstairs, and since when did they bother talking to people like _him_? He could count the number of people that had bothered doing that since he arrived here on one hand, and the last person he'd expected was Lady Grantham herself, in the middle of the Servant's Hall in the middle of the afternoon! The girl with the red hair, Ethel perhaps, had said she was an odd one, but Mrs Hughes had said it was best to ignore anything she said.

"It is m'lady," he stuttered nervously. He sat slowly, just in case it was some kind of test and he shouldn't really be sitting, and curled his fists around Lord Grantham's shirt to stop his hands from shaking. "Can I help you, m'lady? Are you lost?"

Cora laughed softly. He was the third person to ask her that in the last half an hour; the staff clearly thought very little of her knowledge of the house, but she probably knew it better than anyone. Robert rarely ventured out of the usual rooms, and Violet wouldn't be caught dead in the lower levels, but oh how Cora had explored when she'd first come here. Downton had been something out of a fairytale, and for months she'd felt like something of a captive princess trying to win the prince's love. Until recently, she'd been so sure she'd had it.

"Oh...no, I just wanted to see how you were doing."

It was only half a lie really. It hadn't been her intended motive, but they were here now and she really did want to know. She had clearly taken the poor man by surprise.

"How I'm doing m'lady?"

Cora's lips drifted up in a rueful smile, and after a moment of hesitation she moved to sit down at the head of the table, in Carson's usual seat, and rested her hands in front of her on the desk. The Servant's Hall was strangely empty, but she supposed it was mid-morning, and the majority of the staff was busy, but with Robert out on one of his various visits she supposed it left Lang at something of a loss.

"Yes," she clarified warmly.

Lang certainly hadn't expected this and tried his best not to squint back at the woman warily, but she certainly seemed to know something no one else did and he couldn't help but tread lightly. But she was smiling so nicely and she was so much nicer than other lady's, and he couldn't help but smile back, despite the nervous tremor of his hands as he pushed his needle through the material of his lordship's shirt.

"I'm as well as can be, m'lady." He paused; he had no intention of crossing the line, but she looked so..._sad_. "And...yourself?"

Cora fought the urge to laugh. It had been seemingly so long since she had been asked that question that it took her entirely by surprise.

"I've been better. We've _all_ been better...haven't we?"

Lang agreed wholeheartedly with that and smiled up at her ladyship from his work. Andrew Lang hadn't quite know what to expect when joining the ranks at Downton Abbey, but he certainly hadn't expected to be befriended by the lady of the house herself, but Lady Grantham was clearly unlike anyone he had ever known before. He had been in service before, before the war, but never the valet of an Earl and he'd never even dreamed of having a discussion like this with a Countess, but he supposed anything was possible in times like these.

"That we 'ave, m'lady. But at least we're all in it together I suppose. Even if some of us are worse off than others."

Cora couldn't help but notice the flinch on the man's face and the flicker of fear and something else in his eyes. It was a faraway look, a look of unhappy remembrance, and Cora wanted little more in this moment than to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight, but that was certainly inappropriate; hugging O'Brien goodbye was one thing, but holding her husband's valet, haunted or not, was quite another.

But she was convinced it was so much more than that. Before she had left she and Sarah had spoken long into the night and she had learnt more than she had ever expected to learn about the symptoms of shellshock, the utter devastation it had brought to Alfie's life, and Andrew Lang...she was certain the man suffered from quite the same condition, and she would _not_ let another man be sent back to his death, no matter what it took.

"If there is anything I can do for you Lang, _anything_, you only have to let me know. My husband can be dreadfully oblivious at times, and truthfully so can I, but my former lady's maid was a very clever woman indeed and I like to think I've learnt _something_ from her. And I know a little bit about suffering."

Her lips twisted up in a sad smile as she recalled her son. It wasn't quite fighting on a foreign battlefield, but it had been traumatic enough.

Lang swallowed, ducking his head with an embarrassed blush and did his best not to show Lady Grantham just how on the mark she was. Whoever this mystery lady's maid was she clearly knew her stuff, bloody woman.

"I appreciate that m'lady. But this is a good position for me. I'm happy here, an' I'd rather not leave."

"I'm not proposing that."

"I'm sorry m'lady, I'm...I-"

"You just find it difficult to cope sometimes?"

"I think we all do."

Cora nodded in agreement. She couldn't even begin to count the number of sleepless nights she'd had and she wasn't inclined to try. And with Sarah gone everything seemed so much worse.

"Yes we do. But regardless...all you have to do is let me know." She gave Lang a tentative smile, quite sure she had pushed too much now but determined to help this man, even if he insisted upon protesting the fact he needed help in the first place. But the signs were all there and impossible to ignore, and Sarah would do exactly the same.

"Thank you m'lady...really, thank you. I never expected such kindness, not in such a big 'ouse and not with the world gone mad like."

"Perhaps one day the world will regain some of its sanity."

"I don't know m'lady. I don't think things will ever be the same again."

Cora was terrified to admit she agreed.

* * *

><p>"Shall I get you some water?" Mickey called out as he and Sarah hurried in from the heat outside. It was like the bleedin' Sahara out there and neither of them had ever done well with heat. They had always fared better in the cold and Mickey had once looked forward to winter nights spent in the comfort of their room in the hotel they'd own together. He had given up on that dream once, but perhaps there was a chance for it now?<p>

Sarah tossed a grin over her shoulder as she flopped into the nearest chair. "Please. Bloody 'ell it's hot out there. You wouldn't think there was a war on with weather like this!"

"It doesn't seem right somehow, does it?"

"It 'as to be better fightin' in the sunshine than trudging through miserable, muddy trenches." She paused, and added as an afterthought, "At least Alfie would 'ave thought so."

He'd always been a sucker for sunshine.

"I don't think it'd make much difference either way," Mickey replied, pouring Sarah a glass of water from the kitchen tap and passing it to her with a smile he hoped would discourage the sadness clouding her features. "'ere. I'd better get an 'eadstart on dinner before your Pa gets back."

Sarah arched her eyebrow. "You're cookin' again?"

"Would you rather I left it to you?" he countered. Sarah had always been a lousy cook, no matter what she said.

"Not likely!" She yawned and stretched. If Mickey was offering to do the cooking she was damn well going to enjoy the end of the working day until the time came to do the washing up. She'd earned it after a long day on the farm using muscles she'd forgotten she ever had working for Cora. "You're makin' yourself indispensible y'know."

"Maybe that's my plan?" Mickey quipped.

"Well it's workin'," she snorted. "Dad thinks the sun shines out of your arse."

"And what about you?"

Sarah was silent for a moment. She observed Mickey as he turned back to the sink to pour himself a glass and couldn't help but let her eyes linger on the tanned skin and broad chest and bright blue eyes she had once loved so much. They'd slipped so easily back into the relationship they had once had that it was like they'd never been apart and the thought unsettled her because what about Cora? Hadn't Cora made her the woman she was today? If she was so easily able to slip back into being the old Sarah, the one that had been Mickey's, then what did that mean for the last fifteen years?

"I think you should get on with dinner so we 'ave a chance of eatin' before its dark," she replied as lightly as she could manage.

Mickey opened his mouth to retort, but Sarah was grateful to see him close it again. She'd be bloody stupid not to see Mickey still had feelings for her, but she would rather he didn't speak of them. She didn't have a clue what she would she'd do if he did, but she wouldn't make him happy in the long run and she refused to be tied down back here when all she wanted was to go back to Downton the first opportunity she could. She loved her father, and she had to admit the time she'd spent with Mickey had been far from unpleasant, but it was Cora she still saw when she closed her eyes.

She wondered if that would ever change, but she doubted it.

* * *

><p>Thomas started in surprise as the Countess appeared beside him and automatically stubbed out his cigarette in a hurry. Her ladyship wasn't O'Brien; she was a real lady, no matter how many times O'Brien had protested otherwise, and half the reason he'd been allowed here in the first place instead of still being stuck in some French hospital in the middle of a war that had already claimed so many, and what was to stop him from being next?<p>

He hadn't expected her here though. He could count the number of times he'd spoken with Cora Crawley on one hand, and even then half of their conversations tended to be her telling him what to do and him reluctantly obeying. And she'd never once been out here, in the middle of the bloody yard, and Thomas couldn't think of a single reason she'd be here now. O'Brien wasn't here after all.

That had taken some adjusting to. This place didn't seem right without her bitter smirks and the roll of her eyes; Thomas wasn't sappy enough to ever claim to miss her, but if there was anyone he'd ever miss, in this place or anywhere else in this miserable world, it would be Sarah O'Brien. Nobody else had ever bothered to stick up for him before, not after his dad buggered off, and he'd never found himself liking anybody else but O'Brien's sarcasm and cynicism and her funny way of looking at the world. He refused to think about the Duke.

He forced his most amiable smile as he silently begrudged Cora the loss of his cigarette, but reminded himself he wasn't a footman anymore.

"Good afternoon, m'lady. 're you lookin' for someone?"

Cora looked momentarily confused. "Is it afternoon already?"

Thomas arched an eyebrow. He'd heard Sarah yap on about her ladyship being mad before, and she certainly seemed it now, but it was probably more to do with the fact that Cora Crawley hadn't been up since bloody seven o'clock and had probably only roused an hour or so ago.

"Actually, I was looking for you." She smiled sheepishly up at the young man, eying the packet of cigarettes just poking out of his pocket. "You don't have to stop on my accord, Thomas."

Now she bloody told him. He fought the urge to roll his eyes and somehow kept the smile on his face as he reached for another. "Thank you, m'lady. That's very kind of you."

"I apologize for not having a chance to speak to you yet. I very much wanted to welcome you back."

"You'll be the first, m'lady."

"Oh? That surprises me."

Of course it did. Her ladyship didn't have the first clue about what went on downstairs, she never had, but footman or not it still wasn't his place to tell the Countess what went on down below. She'd be on Hughsie's side anyway, wouldn't she, now O'Brien was gone.

"I appreciate you takin' the time to speak to me. 'm very grateful to you for allowin' me back here."

"Oh don't thank me, thank O'Brien. It was she that wrote to me and suggested you join us. It made sense; you worked here for so many years I couldn't imagine you being sent anywhere else to recover."

She cast a furtive look in the direction of his hand and tried not to wince. Thomas had more than done his duty to his country and now he was back at Downton where he belonged.

Thomas screwed up his nose briefly. He hadn't missed the flicker of sadness on her ladyship's face at the mention of O'Brien's name and it surprised him more than he cared to admit. She'd been all for firing the woman before her accident as far as he knew, but who was he to try and make sense of a woman like Cora Crawley? He'd never been able to understand the Duke either and they were all so bloody alike. O'Brien had always been disgustingly soft around her ladyship, no matter how vigorously she cursed her in private, so perhaps the same could be said for the Countess herself.

"Well I appreciate it m'lady, an' I appreciate you lettin' me 'elp out here."

"O'Brien thinks very highly of you."

"D'you…d'you hear from her often?"

The question momentarily left her speechless. "Not as often as I'd like, but then I'd prefer to have her _here_."

"You're fond of 'er." It was a statement, not a question,

"Very fond. I miss her dearly."

"Would you…would you like a-" he just about stopped himself from saying 'fag', "smoke, m'lady?"

"You're…offering me cigarette?"

Thomas nodded, surprised by his own actions as he offered her one from his pack. He must have gone soft out on the front. He shared his cigarettes with noone, not even O'Brien, and here he was offering one to bloody Cora Crawley and giving her an encouraging nod. He held out a match, lighting the Countess' cigarette and immediately grimaced as the silly cow began coughing enough to burst a lung.

"Steady m'lady. You don't 'ave to rush it."

"I'm afraid I'm not used to cigarettes."

"You 'ave to breathe it in or you'll just choke on it." He watched with a beady eye as Cora tried again. This time she had more success, though success in her ladyship's case was relative, and she only coughed a couple of times.

"That's better. You're gettin' the 'ang of it now."

If anybody had told him he'd be stood here at Downton Abbey with a gammy hand, teaching the Countess of Grantham to smoke, he would have told them they were bloody mad, but here he was, rubbing her sodding back to soothe her coughs and god help him he felt a flicker of fondness for the daft cow. She was bloody useless but as least she was _good_ – she was better than the Duke by half – and maybe this was what Sarah O'Brien had seen in her all along?

"I bet she'll come back, when it's all over."

Cora looked up, and even Thomas couldn't help but smirk benevolently at the wide-eyed bloody hope on her face. O'Brien had done a number on this one, that was for sure, crafty sod.

"She's very fond of you too. I bet it's drivin' 'er mad to be so far away from you."

"Do you really think so?"

Thomas shrugged. "S'not right, the two of you bein' apart."

"None of this is right, Thomas," Cora smiled sadly, watching her cigarette flicker and burn. "But there's not a lot we can do about it but keep going, for better or worse."

"How do you feel about Mrs. Crawley, Thomas?"

"She's doin' 'er best, like the rest of us," Thomas muttered carefully, watching the Countess over his cigarette and hoping he'd given her the right answer.

Cora smirked. "Why do I sense a 'but'?"

Sod it. He didn't work for her anymore and she'd started it. "But it's not 'er 'ouse, is it? She might be a nurse but it doesn't give 'er precedence over you an' 'is lordship. S'like Mr. Bates turnin' up out of nowhere and lordin' it over everyone like 'e's the Earl 'imself."

Maybe this time he'd gone too far? But Thomas was both relieved and amused to see the delighted smirk on her ladyship's lips.

"It never fails to baffle me how _fond_ Lord Grantham is of him when he was so desperate to rid himself of O'Brien!"

Now _this_ was more like it.

* * *

><p>"What the bloody 'ell is wrong with you? You look like someone 'as shot your dog."<p>

Mickey hadn't looked this miserable in a while, and Sarah noticed it immediately as she entered the house. She'd been out feeding the chickens – her father usually did it but he had buggered up his back recently and had been banished to bed grumbling something about Sarah being much too like her mother.

Things had been good between her and Mickey lately. There were times when things weren't so good and Mickey looked at her with so much love in her eyes she had to look away, but she had done her best to keep them both on safe ground, even though she could feel herself slipping more and more each day. But they'd been laughing only ten minutes ago; what the bloody hell was wrong with him now?

"Nothing," Mickey grunted and Sarah didn't even bother trying not to roll her eyes.

"Are you serious? You don't think I know you better than that, you silly sod?"

He was silent for a moment, so quiet that a prickle of concern went up Sarah's spine and she found herself creeping closer. Whatever was wrong hadn't just occurred to Mickey five minutes ago, he'd been thinking about it for some time and she suspected he was about to do something even more stupid than asking her to marry him.

"I'm goin' to war."

Sarah blinked in surprise. "You mean you've been called up?"

Mickey snorted softly and shook his head. He glanced up from his hands and was momentarily pleased to see concern in Sarah's eyes; she cared then, even if she wasn't raring to run off into the sunset with him, but he had given up on that now.

"No, I mean I'm going to war. I'm volunteering."

"You 'ave to be jokin'. After what happened to Alfie?"

"That's exactly why I'm goin'. I can't just sit here doin' nothing while all the men I've ever been fond of fight for their lives and their country-"

"You sound like bloody Kitchener!"

"Well maybe he's right. We should all be doin' our bit, and it's not like there's anythin' here for me."

She hesitated. She knew exactly how to keep him here, but could she really do it? It would be lying to him and to herself, surely, and after her ladyship's accident she'd promised herself she'd never hurt anyone again. But she couldn't, in all good conscience, let him go off to war if there was a chance she could stop him, could she?

"There's _me_, you daft bastard!"

Sarah rolled her eyes, cursing the stupidity of men, and grasped his collar to pull him in for an unceremonious kiss. She wouldn't let him go off and get himself shot, even if she had to tie him to the bloody fence! But halfway into the kiss it became less about saving the stupid git's life and more about the _kiss_, and her arms found themselves around Mickey's neck about the same time his fingers slid into her hair.

She'd tried to resist the pull that still existed between them out of some ridiculous loyalty to her ladyship's memory, but, as she reminded herself with a pang, Cora had never been hers and she had nothing to feel guilty about, and if kissing Mickey made her feel that little bit better and stopped him from getting himself killed in the middle of France, then she was damn well going to keep kissing him.

They broke apart breathlessly and Sarah fought the urge to fidget under his gaze as he beamed down at her, but to her surprise she felt a sense of calm spread over her and she smiled tentatively back.

"I wondered if you'd ever get 'round to doin' that. What took you so long?"

She arched a brow. "What kind of girl d'you think I am, Mickey Briggs?"

"You nearly married me once," Mickey pointed out, and Sarah rolled her eyes.

"That was a long time ago."

"Not _so_ long you won't kiss me."

His tone was positively gleeful now and Sarah couldn't help but be swept up in his enthusiasm. She felt no sweeping, all-consuming love, but then she didn't expect she'd ever feel that again, but there was _something_ between them and maybe it was worth a second chance.

"What did you expect, talking nonsense about goin' off to fight?"

Mickey grinned suggestively. "Maybe that was all part of my plan too?"

"I doubt it." She smirked. "I've always been smarter than you."

Mickey's smile softened and he stroked his hands gently over her back. "'m not stupid enough to let you get away again."

Sarah swallowed against the sudden, unexpected lump of emotion in her throat. "Are you askin' me to live in sin with you, Mickey Briggs?"

"Why not? We did it once before. What's changed?"

Everything had changed; who she was, what she wanted..._who_ she wanted. But Mickey was right here, flesh and blood and in her arms, and Cora Crawley…well, she never would be, would she? She wouldn't delude herself into thinking otherwise; it would only lead to misery. She still _loved_ Mickey after all, she just – and bloody hell, she'd promised she'd never believe in any of this rubbish – wasn't _in_ love with him. Her heart still lingered at Downton Abbey, and it probably always would do.

Still, Mickey was kind, he made her laugh so hard she'd bust a lung it was physically possible, and he loved her. There were precious few people left in this miserable world that did that, least of all _her_.

"And we don't have to live in sin y'know."

She should have known there was a marriage proposal on the cards. Mickey had always been ready to marry her, practically from the day they'd met.

"You should be asking my father for my 'and in marriage, not me. Isn't that 'ow it works?"

"S'not how I did it last time."

"Last time you were rat-arsed in the local pub and fell over when you tried to get on your knee."

"Don't I get points for originality?"

Sarah ducked her head to hide her smirk. He was no Cora, but she didn't expect it would be a chore to spend the rest of her life with him and she didn't hear anybody else asking.

"I'd be mad to say yes."

"Well that's alright. You always 'ave been."

Sarah grinned, and for the first time since she'd left Downton Abbey she felt content. She slid her hands to rest against his chest, snuggling against his front and smirked up at him.

"Alright, if it gets you to shut up I'll marry you."


	6. Chapter 6

"Did you finish your book?" Cora asked gently as she joined her husband in their bedchamber.

For once he had made it there before her, although it had been happening much more often lately. Her work at the hospital was rewarding but it was time-consuming and she was lucky if she got to bed before twelve these days! Oddly, she found she didn't mind. For the first time in possibly her entire life she felt useless, she felt as if she were making a difference. She wasn't a nurse like her brave, beautiful daughter but she had done her best to contribute somehow, even if Isobel made it absurdly difficult.

"I barely saw you today."

He hadn't answered the question she'd posed, and Robert's tone sent a prickle up her spine. He sounded disappointed in a way she hadn't heard for nearly three decades, when she had first given him a girl, and she fought the urge to shift uncomfortably in the bed. She smiled at him warmly as she slipped into bed beside him.

"I've been busy. We've had twenty new patients from France, and our supplies are stretched enough as it is."

"Clarkson's a good chap. He'll cope."

Cora fixed him with a pointed look. It really wasn't quite that simple and surely Robert knew it? "I'm not sure he will if we run out of supplies. Has Cousin Isobel heard from Matthew?"

"You see her more than I do. I suppose she would have told us though."

The same disappointed tone and Cora did her best to brush it off.

"We have to do something about her Robert. She's driving me _mad_. Today she changed the entire nursing schedule and conveniently forgot to inform me—"

Robert sighed. "Cora, can we talk about something other than Cousin Isobel?"

"Really Robert, she's _unbearable—_"

"I mean it Cora," he interrupted sharply, and Cora broke off, holding her breath. "I don't want to hear about Isobel or Doctor Clarkson, or anything remotely to do with the blasted hospital. I have to put up with it day after day in _my_ house; I apologize if you expect me to put up with it in the bed chamber too."

Cora swallowed heavily. Silence reigned for a few minutes, a heinously uncomfortable one as she busied herself with plucking at a loose thread on the bed sheets. "Alright."

Robert shifted on the bed beside her, temporarily mollified.

"I didn't realize it bothered you, Robert," she spoke after a long moment, as softly as she could, and gently covered his hand with hers. After a small delay she was relieved to feel his thumb begin to trace a lazy pattern on her palm and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"It doesn't _bother_ me, I'd just prefer to discuss something else. I'd prefer to spend time with my wife _without_ her work interfering. I want things to be as they were."

The latter was spoken with deep frustration, and Cora found she couldn't blame him, but there was a _war _raging and they all had to do their part. She sighed softly, and instead of curling up beside him like she would have done what seemed a lifetime ago, she gave his hand a final squeeze before settling onto her side on her own half of the bed.

"I don't things are ever going to be the same again Robert, for any of us."

* * *

><p>"Did you ever imagine you'd see me again?"<p>

Sarah shifted uncomfortably against Mickey's bare chest. They'd been having such an easy afternoon and it had been so long since she'd just been able to lie in bed and sleep the day away. This particular day of sleep had been peppered with bouts of love-making and_ that _she wasn't daft enough to complain about, but the last thing she wanted was to talk about feelings.

She had thought about Mickey a lot over the years, about what might have been and how easy it had been but there was nothing easy about this, and lying naked in a man's arms – her _fiancé's_ – arms was not the right time to tell him she'd thought of him less and less as the years had gone by, the more she'd thought about Cora and what _could_ be, even if it hasn't registered at the time. But there was no denying that she'd looked, that her hands had lingered almost as much as her eyes and she'd always jumped the second her ladyship had called.

But her ladyship wasn't here, and that was all in the past now, and it would do her good to move on and put Cora behind her. How long had it been since she'd been able to put herself first? About as long as it had been since she'd been able to sleep in, she imagined. And Mickey…not only could she put herself first with Mickey, but _he_ put first too and wasn't that worth so much more than the…appreciation of a woman who'd never look at her twice in the way she wanted her to?

She smiled, pressing her lips to Mickey's neck and tightened her arm around him. "Course I did. We're good together, you an' I."

And they _were_. There was no denying that at least, whatever her other doubts.

Mickey smirked against her hair. "Then let's book the registrar you silly cow. What're we waitin' for?"

Sarah was still for a moment. "We'll see. We 'ave all the time in the world for that." She yawned, pushing herself up on her elbows to reach purposefully over him for her glass of water and gave him a rather spectacular glimpse of her breasts. That shut him up quick enough, and she breathed a silent breath of relief that turned into a moan as he gently palmed her flesh.

"If I didn't know you any better, I'd think you were tryin' to avoid marryin' me."

Sarah laughed nervously, and pushed her breast into his hand. She sank back down beside his body and slid her arms around his neck.

"Now why should I do that if I accepted you in the first place?"

Mickey shrugged and leaned in to kiss her neck. "'ow should I know? Only I 'ate the thought of you marryin' me because you think you should."

"Since when 'ave I been the type to do anythin' I didn't want to?"

He was alarmingly close to the mark. She pushed Cora's face out of her mind and wrapped a leg tantalizingly around his waist. "I 'aven't changed that much in sixteen years."

"You've changed enough."

His eyes held hers so piercingly for a moment that she almost forgot to breath, but in the end her words were true enough that the guilt wouldn't cripple her later.

"Not enough that I wouldn't want you, Mickey."

And if he had any more questions, she soon silenced then with a kiss.

* * *

><p>Rosamund Painswick was the cause of often great controversy amongst the Crawley family. Her mother was often scandalized by her activities and her brother, varying degrees disappointed. Her nieces alternated between admiration and incredulity, and she had quickly made an enemy of Isobel. But she had never been anything but wonderful to her sister-in-law. She had been the first to make her feel welcome, the first to love her even when her husband had not, and no matter how many men Rosamund married, or how many she 'consorted' with, she would never be anything less than her <em>dearest<em> friend.

But no matter how hard she tried she would never know how Rosamund seemed to sense when something was terribly wrong - perhaps smoke signals were involved? - but she had done it again and here she was; a vision of ostentation on a Sunday afternoon with her hair aflame and her blessedly familiar smirk plastered on her face. Cora knew her better though - she could see the concern in the other woman's eyes, and she steeled herself in preparation for the inevitable interrogation she would endure the moment they were alone. She smiled as the older woman approached, holding out her hands in greeting.

"Rosamund. I'm _so_ glad you're here."

"Cora, darling," Rosamund greeted brightly, taking Cora's hands and leaning in to press her lips to her cheeks and wrapped her arms around her unceremoniously.

Rosamund was never usually so affectionate in public - it was much more beneficial to let Robert to believe they weren't utterly devoted to one another, that way he wouldn't protest quite so much when Cora asked him to up Rosamund's monthly supplies - but this time she lingered in her arms, even rubbing her back, and when Cora pulled back it was with narrowed eyes.

_Someone_ had clearly written to Rosamund and suggested she needed to see a friendly face, but who?

Rosamund smiled as brilliantly as usual as Cora pulled back, but at the same time ran her eyes critically over her sister-in-law, noting the dark circles under her eyes that were poorly concealed by her make-up. Cora wasn't wrong then; her new maid was clearly inferior to O'Brien, but then most maids were! She had tried to poach the dreary woman on more than one occasion and had faced the full force of Cora's anger. She had always been rather possessive of the woman, despite her strangeness, and as far as _she_ had seen O'Brien had been rather sickeningly devoted to her mistress too - it had been a surprise when she'd heard of the maid's resignation, and she had been reluctant to enquire any further. She had been in Cora's presence once when O'Brien's name had been mentioned after her departure, and the pain on her face had been enough to silence even her indomitable mother and very little did! But surely O'Brien's departure was not enough to explain her sister's rather strange and concerning mood?

"You look lovely, my dear. I am terribly fond of this," she fingered the material of Cora's dress with the most convincing smile she could manage - black, and dreadfully plain, but there was a war on and she supposed they all had to make sacrifices! "Although I prefer you in blue. Has there been a death I haven't been informed about? Should I be in mourning for somebody?"

"We can't all pull off fur and feathers mid-war, Rosamund."

"Robert darling, might I borrow your wife?" Rosamund smiled sweetly.

Robert could hardly refuse, given his sister had already tucked her arm through Cora's and had started leading her towards the gardens, and Cora found herself suddenly practically manhandled onto a bench with Rosamund beside her and a rather intent expression on her face that spelled nothing less than disaster.

"The funny thing about black, my dear, is it does very little to disguise a pale face. You look awful."

Cora arched an eyebrow. Hadn't she been 'lovely' before?

"I'll choose to ignore that, though I don't suppose you'll let me."

"You suppose right. Are you ill?" She narrowed her eyes speculatively, and decided to cut straight to the point. "Or are you still pining for that old maid of yours?"

Cora's immediate flinch told her she had been precisely on the mark, and Rosamund couldn't help but smirk.

"Oh my darling, I do sympathize. It's impossible to find decent help – I have yet to find a maid who can both handle my delicates and tolerate my taste in art."

Cora snorted softly; she personally didn't think such a woman existed, but it wasn't her place to tell the other woman that. She appreciated Rosamund's attempts, but her sister-in-law didn't understand; she'd been through six maids in a year after all, how could she even begin to understand what it was like to form an emotional attachment to one of them?

"I'm not pining. Pining is for lovers."

"Call it what you will, you clearly miss her, but life goes on my dear. You must concentrate on the girls, on Robert-"

Oh dear, had that been another flinch? Her brother and Cora had always been so disgustingly happy she was momentarily taken aback by the possibility of there being a problem between them. But she supposed no married couple could ever be _that_ happy, and she really was the expert. She had been married four times, after all!

"Cora darling, are you and my brother having…difficulties?"

"Of course not. I'm glad you're here Rosamund, I have something to ask of you."

"Oh? Nothing financial I trust, you know I am _terribly _stretched for money."

Cora arched her eyebrow, but let it pass without comment. She couldn't quite fathom how Rosamund could possibly be stretched for money, given the rather sizeable fortune she had inherited after Marmaduke's death, and if _that_ had been fritted away on Bond Street there was Lachlan's winnings – Violet had been appalled when her daughter had married a racing car driver – to fall back on, and that was even before she began to consider her divorce settlement, but Cora preferred not to think about husband number three. Perhaps she had a gambling addiction?

"No, nothing that would put you out; quite the opposite in fact. Robert's valet…I believe he is suffering from shellshock."

"And how does that – not to be insensitive of course, darling – how does that concern me?"

"At present, I don't believe he should be working. He suffers from nightmares, he is dreadfully distracted – _haunted_ really. I'm not sure in all good conscience I can allow him to remain here. He needs time to recover."

"You seem terribly informed. Have you obtained a medical degree since my last visit?"

It wouldn't surprise Rosamund; Cora was American after all, and they were all so horribly forward thinking.

"No…O'Brien," Cora's lips drifted up in a faraway smile, "her brother suffered from the same condition. If he is capable of work, they may send him back Rosamund, and enough men have died already."

Rosamund nodded. She covered Cora's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "What can I do, darling?"

"He'll need a position once he has recovered. Knowing your brother, he'll have likely fired and rehired Bates another hundred times by that point." She rolled her eyes. "And if Lang can't serve as Robert's valet…"

"He can serve as my butler."

"That's a rather large promotion, darling."

"Is he handsome?"

"_I_ think so."

"Then say no more!"

Cora really should be appalled by Rosamund's preference for attractive staff rather than _skilled_ ones, but she was one of the few people who knew Rosamund had one of the biggest hearts in England, and so she smiled instead, leaning in to press her lips gratefully to Rosamund's cheek.

"Thank you Rosamund. I can't tell you how grateful I am."

"I should hope so!" Rosamund sniffed, but her smile betrayed her faux-outrage. "Have _Lang_ speak to me before I return to London. Should he have nothing else arranged he may recuperate at my residence. I will need to familiarize him with the house before he starts, after all. You know I like things done properly."

"I'm sure he will prove satisfactory."

Cora's lips drifted up in a faint smile, and Rosamund's brow creased in concern. She reached for her sister-in-law's hand, gripping it tightly and forced the silly, miserable woman to meet her eyes.

"I know you don't want to hear his darling - lord knows I take no pleasure in saying it - but you will have to hire a new lady's maid eventually." She held up her hand to prevent the inevitable protest. She really wasn't in the mood for arguing, even with her dearest friend. "You have a duty to Robert darling. You took on that duty when you married him. You have to uphold the standards of this family and of your position, and you certainly cannot go on using your _daughters_' maid to do a lady's maid's job. I know you were very fond of O'Brien, but it's time to move on."

She laughed shortly to diffuse the tension and rubbed the back of Cora's hand. "Oh listen to me, the voice of reason! What on earth is wrong with me?"

"What's wrong with any of us?"

"Oh my darling," Rosamund sighed, abandoning decorum - as if decorum had ever existed between the two of them - and leaned in to press a swift kiss to Cora's lips, before wrapping her in her arms. If nothing else, the fur would keep her exquisitely warm! "The rest of the world may be facing upheaval, but nothing will ever change between _us_."

Cora let out a breath, pressing her face into Rosamund's neck and holding on tight. Whoever had sent for Rosamund might have done it behind her back, but they should be commended for allowing her this comfort. Her stomach fluttered at the kiss, but she chalked it down to being absurdly emotional. Really, must Rosamund insist upon kissing her at every given opportunity? No wonder her Mama had to do so much explaining for her!

"I should hope not! If nothing else, I at least deserve _one_ constant."

Even if she'd rather it be Sarah O'Brien.

She sucked in a breath, blinking back her tears and drawing back from Rosamund's arms. Forcing a smile, she brushed the moisture from her cheeks and straightened her back.

"I suppose the first step is arranging an advertisement?"

Rosamund nodded, smiling sympathetically as she smoothed down her sister-in-law's hair. She knew all about keeping up appearances, and she would protect Cora at any cost, in any way she could.

* * *

><p>"What about this one, darling? Apparently she trained in France."<p>

Cora looked up to her sister-in-law and scrunched up her nose.

"Lord no. It would please your mother far too much."

Rosamund's lips curled up in a smirk, and she tossed the application onto the bottom of the pile. There was rather a large pile in front of them, and she supposed it was to be expected; it was something of a once in a lifetime opportunity after all, to be the lady's maid of a rather benevolent and charming Countess in a large and beautiful house. This many women had not responded to _her_ advertisement, and those she interviewed had been rather put off by her taste in art. It really was terribly unfair - she would make somebody an excellent employer! Oh well. At least she'd secured herself a terribly attractive butler _and_ she'd managed to stop Cora's tears. It had been rather a successful visit all round, but she dreaded to think how Cora would cope when she was gone.

"What about a local girl?"

"I'm not sure darling. Wouldn't a local girl lack for experience?"

"I suppose you'd prefer, oh, a forty something year old woman from Lancashire?" Cora tossed her a dark look, and Rosamund pursed her lips to prevent her smile. "Somebody else then. Somebody different."

She flicked through the applications, searching desperately for someone who might fit the bill, but Rosamund didn't expect there would be anyone that fit the bill. Nobody but her. She needed someone efficient, someone inoffensive, someone different to Sarah O'Brien in every other way…and she suspected _this_ might be the one.

"Joan Redfern," Rosamund stated, sliding the resume in her sister-in-law's direction.

Cora accepted the resume with suspicion and glanced over it. "She's forty, Rosamund."

"So? I'm _fifty_ darling, and I can undress myself. I'm certain Joan Redfern can manage to undress you too."

Rosamund was fifty-_two_, but her date of birth seemed to change every year and Cora was one of the very few people left that knew her real birthday.

"She's experienced. She knows what she's doing darling and she won't bring you trouble." She sniffed. "At any rate, experience _always_ triumphs over youth."

Cora hid her smirk at that and continued perusing the application. "And where on earth is Farringham?"

"Herefordshire I believe. You'll be spared the ghastly Yorkshire accent—'

"I don't mind the accent, Rosamund," Cora countered.

Rosamund rolled her eyes. "What I _mean_ darling is she's nothing at all like O'Brien. And I'm quite sure the last thing you need is a cheap imitation of the woman."

What she _needed_ was to forget about the woman altogether for the sake of her marriage, but Rosamund knew rather more about how Cora was feeling than she suspected the American did herself, and it would all end in tears if she insisted on pining.

Cora stared quietly down at the resume for a moment before she made up her mind. "Alright, I'll see her."

* * *

><p><em>I miss you.<em>

Sarah hadn't been able to think of anything else all day. The words were so blatant and the emotion behind them so heartfelt and all the progress Sarah had made so far in forgetting her feelings for Cora Crawley had been ripped to shreds by one simple letter.

Cora missed her. She missed her and she was miserable, and there was nobody at Downton who could help. Lady Rosamund was there apparently but Lady Grantham's sister-in-law was a headache at the best of times, and she hadn't said anything especially telling but Sarah knew better than that, and the absence of her husband's name had said it all. She was alone and unhappy, and had far too much on her plate than was good for her and Sarah couldn't help but wish she was there to prop her up like always, engaged or not.

She spared a look at Mickey as he lay asleep in bed beside her. He looked so peaceful with the moonlight shining in through the small window and so unashamedly happy that Sarah felt a pang of guilt for being suddenly unhappy herself. But an _engagement_ wouldn't change the way she felt about her former mistress and her desire to protect Cora was still so strong.

She tucked the letter back into its delicate envelope with sudden resolve. If Cora was miserable there was only one thing for it, and if Mickey didn't like it he could think long and hard about whether he wanted to marry her.

She needed a ticket to Downton.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Spent the weekend with my grandparents with no internet access, so apologies for the delay! But I'm back in London now with the next few chapters only needing the tiniest bit of tweaking. I hope you enjoy Cora and Sarah's reunion!

* * *

><p>It took a while to organise the tickets, but two weeks later Sarah found herself back at Downton Abbey. The house was busier than she remembered; everywhere she looked there was a nurse, and the place was crawling was soldiers, but that was to be expected. Cora had spoken of the hospital in her letters with a sense of pride and Sarah had been undeniably curious, but it wasn't the <em>house<em> she was here to see. Though how she would find Cora in the midst of such chaos and with Carson no longer answering the bloody door she would never know but—

"Miss O'Brien?"

Sarah looked over her shoulder, unable to suppress a smile as she caught sight of Lady Edith, arms full of books and smiling at her like she never had done before, as if she was a long lost friend and not her mother's former, much despised maid. She had always liked Edith best – she must be the only one – from the moment the girl had come crashing down the stairs at six years old to meet the new face in the drawing room. She had been the only one who had bothered to make her feel welcome, even if she had been six; Mary was difficult even then, and Sybil was much too young to bother with her mother's lady's maid, but Edith had taken to her quickly. Their relationship had suffered with age, but Sarah was fond of her still and she smiled warmly in greeting. It was the first familiar face she had seen so far and it was a welcome one.

"Hello m'lady. Can I take those from you?"

Edith shook her head, flustered but looking more at home in her own house than she ever had before, "Oh no, O'Brien. I was just distributing them amongst the soldiers." She flashed a brief smile. "I've become something of a librarian you see. The soldiers ask for books and I do my best to find them. Sometimes I can't find precisely what they want, but..."

"But you try," Sarah cut in gently. "That's all that matters; the tryin'."

Edith ducked her head with a blush, but couldn't help but smile at the encouragement. She had had so little of it in the past, but she couldn't remember anything else from Miss O'Brien, even if Sybil did think her an odious woman. "Mama will be _so_ pleased to see you," she murmured warmly.

"Is she well?" Sarah ventured. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation of seeing the Countess and she would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. The last time they had seen each other had been the train station and that seemed a lifetime ago with everything else that had happened. With Mickey.

Edith smiled. "She's busy these days, more so than ever. It's very rare to find her not knee deep in some task. Papa has practically handed the reins over to her. You would think _she_ was the Earl, given everything she does for the estate."

Sarah smiled, feeling a wave of pride. Cora had come into her own it seemed, and she couldn't be happier for her.

"I suppose she won't 'ave much time to spare then."

"For you, of course she would! She was in the servant's hall the last I saw of her. She's due to go over the household books with Mrs. Hughes." She grinned slightly. "If I've become a librarian, then Mama has proven herself quite the accountant."

Sarah couldn't help but laugh. She suspected Mrs. Hughes might be the accountant of the; Cora had never been particularly good with numbers, but perhaps she'd improved?

"'ll go an' find her. Thank you, m'lady." She made to move, and then stopped herself suddenly with a gentle smile. "And, if I may say so, Lady Edith...you've never looked better."

Edith blushed, ducked her head as she grinned to herself, half-proud and half-embarrassed, but more than anything pleased to see the other woman. Mama had been so obviously miserable without her, and she rather hoped O'Brien would stay. She supposed it was unlikely, given her reason for leaving Downton in the first place, but Mama needed her, more than she thought her mother would ever admit.

"I'm not sure how true that is, but thank you."

Sarah smiled as Edith moved off, and made her usual way through the house to the servant's stairs, moving down them with familiar swiftness. She knew the corridors like the back of her hand, as surely as she knew how Cora liked her tea or her toast; they were more crowded than usual, bustling with soldiers and nurses and people left right and bloody centre, but it was still Downton Abbey in all of her splendid glory and it was only now that she realized just how much she missed all of it, and not just the lady of the house. There had been misery here as well as joy but for so many years it had been her home. It almost felt like she had come home.

She found Thomas first, or rather he spotted _her_ and smirked at her across the Servant's Hall, sitting with a cup of tea and looking like the Queen of bloody Sheba surrounded by his entourage. The uniform suited him, and so did the glove in an odd sort of way, but she knew what it was concealing and what that uniform represented and thanked god silently he'd come home. Thank _god_ Cora had made it possible.

"'re you lookin' for 'er?"

Thomas didn't need to elaborate. Sarah could see the smirk on his handsome face as clear as day and knew exactly who 'she' was. But she was so glad to see the daft sod alive and well that she momentarily abandoned her quest for Cora. Her lady wasn't going anywhere.

"I was but you'll do."

She ran her eyes critically over his body, narrowing her eyes as she went and finally arched a brow. "You're much too skinny, lad."

"Army rations," Thomas shrugged. There was a flicker of something foreign in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"An' what about here?" Sarah prompted.

Thomas smirked. "'d rather eat the rations if it's all the same t'you."

Sarah sniggered. She didn't blame him: no wonder he was a skinny bugger between army grub and Beryl Patmore. Her face softened after a moment and she granted Thomas a rare, practically unseen smile.

"It's good to see you."

Thomas' lips twitched but even she wouldn't get a smile from him, miserable bastard. "You'd best be comin' back. I don't know 'ow much of 'er Majesty I can take."

Sarah frowned in askance.

Thomas smirked. "She's taken up smokin'."

* * *

><p>"You're tellin' me that the Countess of Grantham stands out 'ere with you an' a fag an' complains about Mrs. Crawley?"<p>

Thomas smirked, releasing a cloud of smoke. They'd relocated to the yard, just like old times, and if it hadn't been for Thomas' hand and the fact her ladyship was smoking she could almost pretend the war had never happened at all.

"She was rubbish at first. I 'ad to pat her back to stop 'er from coughin' 'er lungs out. She got the 'ang of it eventually though, and it's not only Mrs. Crawley. She 'as a lot to say about the Dowager Countess too."

"An' you're the person she's chosen to spill 'er guts out to?"

"Jealous?" Thomas sneered

Sarah bristled. "Doubting her sanity more like."

Thomas took another puff of his cigarette and shrugged and for a moment he was strangely quiet. "She's lonely I think."

Sarah's brow creased in a frown.

"What about the girls? 'is lordship?"

Thomas tapped the edge of his cigarette, shifting uncomfortably. Bloody Lady Grantham, with her weak lungs and her all too eager smile – he was actually fond of the woman!

"She 'an 'is lordship don't talk anymore. She's got the 'ospital and 'e's too busy sulkin' 'cause she won't give 'im time of day."

No wonder she'd latched onto Thomas, bloody hell. She'd left Cora lonely and miserable and at an utter sodding loss! First her son and then herself, as worthless as she was: What else would she deprive Cora of? Her stomach lurched and she looked down to the floor.

Thomas rolled his eyes. They were both as bad as each other.

"S'not your fault y'know. You lost your brother 'an your Dad needed you."

Sarah took a bitter drag of her cigarette and stared darkly down at her feet. Since when was Thomas so bloody insightful anyway? And since when was Cora any of his business? He'd have a bleeding field day if he knew she was jealous of him. He was as straight as a ball of twine but Cora had needed someone and she hadn't been here for her.

"Well I'm 'ere now," she muttered suddenly, stubbing out the cigarette quickly and straightening her skirt. "An' I'd best go an' find 'er."

* * *

><p>"I don't see <em>why<em> we need to cut back on Lord Grantham's brandy, Mrs. Hughes."

"Because, and I understand perfectly it's essential to his lordship my lady, but…is it really essential to the war effort?"

"I imagine it might cheer the soldiers up."

"Yes, but…it's not _for_ the soldiers, your ladyship."

Sarah smirked to herself as she stood outside Mrs. Hughes' door. It had taken her less than five minutes to find Cora hidden away in the Pug's Parlor with an obviously flustered Mrs. Hughes and Sarah couldn't blame her. Business with Cora was a headache at the best of times, and she didn't imagine attending to the household accounts was anything less than a pain in the bloody neck. She smirked fondly to herself as she lingered outside of the door and listened to the exchange within; she could hear the rather admirable restraint in Hughes' voice, but it wouldn't last long. Well, there was no time like the present. Sarah sucked in a steadying breath.

"Perhaps I can 'elp, Mrs. Hughes?" she ventured as she pushed her way tentatively into the room. She had no idea how she'd be received after all; she'd come here entirely on the off chance Cora would be willing to see her, and given how busy she appeared to be the likelihood of that seemed smaller than she'd imagined, but she wasn't disappointed.

"O'Brien!" Cora breathed, practically gasping her name in surprise and smiling so brightly that all of the light in the room seemed to come from her. She was just as beautiful as the day she'd left, maybe even more so, even if she was a bit skinnier than before, but Cora had never had much meat on her in the first place and she'd have to have a chat with Mrs. Hughes about that before she left. The thought that Cora wasn't being properly looked after darkened her mood, but only marginally with the Countess looking so bloody glorious she made her knees weak.

"Hello m'lady," Sarah grinned.

They stood in silence for a moment, soaking in the sight of the other before Mrs. Hughes interrupted with a smirk and pushed herself up from the table. "I'll leave you both to it." She paused at the door, muttering quietly as she passed, "Perhaps you'll have more success, Miss O'Brien?"

"What are you doing here? Is everything alright at home?" Cora blurted before the door had even had a chance to close behind the housekeeper. She hoped she didn't sound unhappy, because this was the most _wonderful_ surprise, but what if something had happened?

"Everything's fine m'lady, everyone's well."

"Your brothers?"

"Fine too, last we 'eard of them. But I got your last letter, an'…Well I 'ad to come m'lady. I worried._"_

Cora smiled brightly, doing her best to fight back tears and couldn't resist coming forward and enveloping the other woman in a hug. This was the best surprise she could have imagined and she needed it right now, with Robert's head in the clouds and Mary's reputation at stake; she needed her O'Brien and here she was!

"I'm_ so_ glad you're here. I can't imagine anything better. You'll stay the whole day of course? I refuse to say goodbye again so soon."

Sarah nodded immediately. "As always I serve entirely at your pleasure m'lady." How bloody true that was. There was nothing she wouldn't do for Cora's pleasure if she asked it of her.

"Oh, let me look at you."

Cora pulled back, beaming as she held Sarah at arm's length and ran her eyes critically over the other woman. She looked beautiful, so much so than she remembered and heavens, what had happened to her fringe? The familiar curls had gone and her hair was shorter than she recalled but it all, down to the healthy, golden color of her skin, suited her so terribly well.

"You look wonderful, O'Brien. Lancashire suits you."

"Thank you, m'lady. I've been 'appy there, an' it's been good to see my father—"

Sarah bit her lip before she could say anything more. She didn't have to tell Cora she was engaged, did she? Not that it would make any difference; the Countess wouldn't care whether she was engaged or not, and marrying Mickey wouldn't force Cora to see how bloody good _they_ could be together.

"An' you look…" Sarah hesitated. Beautiful had never been sufficient enough a word for the Countess.

"Weary?" Cora smirked, interjecting before Sarah could finish her sentence. She was quite aware she looked positively awful, but she hadn't wanted Sarah to see her like this. If she'd known her former maid was coming she would have at least _tried_ to make herself look more presentable, but as usual there was nothing but concern in the other woman's eyes and Cora felt her heart warm all over again. "I know. I've been rather busy."

"I've 'eard," Sarah smirked softly. "Lady Edith seems to think you should forget about the Countess thing an' become an accountant."

Cora laughed heartily, the first _genuine_ laugh she'd given in _weeks_, and she gripped Sarah's hands a little tighter. "I don't know about that. I think Edith has overestimated my talents. Mrs. Hughes deserves most of the credit."

"From the sound of things the house would 'ave fallen down now without you, m'lady." She squeezed Cora's hands, smiling reassuringly as she caught her eyes. "Lady Edith might've overestimated your talent for numbers, but I think you've more than proven your worth."

Cora let out a quiet breath of relief and leaned into Sarah again, pressing her chin into the crook of her neck and holding onto her for dear life. It was just like before, at the train station, except this time she had a whole _day_ before she had to say goodbye again and she was determined to make the most of it. She tightened her arms around her and nudged her nose against her neck, sucking in the familiar scent.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you, O'Brien."

Sarah thought she probably did, more than knew, but tightened her arms around Cora regardless. She was treading on dangerous territory now and knew the longer she stayed here the more likely it was she'd give up everything else and stay forever as she so dearly wanted to do; she reminded herself of her father, of her brothers, of Julie and the kids, and, though it took her a good few minutes to remember him, Mickey. Her bloody fiancé she'd forgotten the minute she had Cora in her arms.

"An' you too m'lady. 'ave you…found a replacement yet?"

Cora smiled sheepishly. "No, not yet. Lady Rosamund and I have arranged an interview with a woman from Herefordshire. She sounds perfectly suitable, but she'll never be you. Rosamund thinks I've lost my mind, but it's proving impossible to replace you."

Sarah nodded. She didn't like the thought she was being replaced at all, but she hoped they were at least competent, and her heart ached at the warmth in Cora's voice. "I could 'ave a look at her resume if you wanted."

"Would you?"

Sarah smiled at the hope in Cora's voice and was delighted to indulge her. "Of course. I won't 'ave anyone but the best takin' care of you, m'lady."

"_Dear_ O'Brien," Cora whispered, and brought her hand up instinctively to cup the other woman's cheek. Being deprived of this woman for so long had been torture and having her so close _divine_. "How have I survived without you—"

There was a knock at the door and Cora darted back from Sarah's arm. It was an instinctive reaction but it bothered her immediately, because they weren't doing anything wrong, were they? There was no reason to jump back like she had been caught doing something _illicit_, but her mental reasoning did nothing to control the pounding of her heart and that was what concerned her. She chanced a look at Sarah and found the other woman's cheeks just as flushed as her own must be, and comforted herself with the thought that it _must_ be a natural, normal reaction if Sarah felt the same.

"Come," she called, perhaps more harshly than she ought to, and met Ethel's eyes expectantly as she entered the room and curtsied. "Yes?"

"Lady Sybil…Nurse Crawley asked me to fetch you, m'lady." Ethel's eyes darted to Sarah in clear, insolent curiosity before returning her attention back to the Countess, and Sarah nearly smirked at the gall of the young girl. Oh, if she was still here she would have sorted this one out _long_ ago. "She needs your help with the afternoon changeover."

Sarah held her breath at the request that could quite possibly bring her time with Cora to an end, but glancing to the other woman she found nothing but a mischievous grin on her lips and a hopeful look in her eyes and returned it willingly.

"Well?" Cora smirked, immediately putting Sarah's doubts to rest. "How would you like to spend the day with me?"

* * *

><p>There had been something Sarah had been meaning to ask Cora since she had decided to come to Downton but had forgotten in her joy at being here by her side. They had spent the day doing utterly mundane tasks – making beds and folding sheets – but it had been exhilarating, and there was no point even trying to pretend she wasn't just as in love with Cora as she had been the day she had left for Scouthead. But the question had come back to her the first time she had spotted Bates – that had been a reunion she could have done without – and now they were alone it seemed fitting to ask her.<p>

"In your letter...you said that you were bein' bothered by Mrs. Bates. What exactly is she botherin' you for, m'lady?"

Cora hesitated. It was one thing to laugh and joke with Sarah and behave like they were friends – and they _were_, she considered Sarah just as dear a friend as Rosamund – but sharing the Pamuk business with the other woman was another thing entirely, and so far they'd managed to keep the secret...sort of. Everybody suspected, everybody except her husband really, but nobody _knew_, only the three women who had endured the ordeal of that night and her persistent mother-in-law, and that had been quite by accident. She blamed Susan Flintshire, but then she blamed Susan for most things.

But really all it came down to was a simple question, and she knew the answer instinctively. Did she trust Sarah O'Brien with her daughter's reputation? The answer was an unequivocal yes.

"Mary..." She chanced a look up at the other woman. "Do you remember the Turkish gentleman who died here a few years ago?"

Sarah nodded, and Cora took a deep breath before carrying on, but Sarah should have known it would have something to do with that night. Bar the accident, she had never seen her mistress as shaken as she was the morning after Pamuk's death; she'd chalked it down to shock at first, but she'd wondered, at the back of her mind, whether Cora had been involved in whatever it was she was _sure_ Anna and Lady Mary had been up to that night. Lady Mary was a given – Pamuk had been in her room after all – and she'd put good money on Anna being involved. But they couldn't carry a body between the two of them; Anna could barely sew on a bloody button, and Lady Mary hadn't lifted a finger in her privileged little life. She suspected she knew precisely what Cora was going to say, but it'd do her good to get it off her chest and she could hardly tell the Countess she'd known all along because she was a nosy cow!

"He died in Lady Mary's bed."

Sarah managed to look appropriately surprised, and leaned in to take the other woman's hand in support. "Were they..."

"Intimate?" Cora sighed bitterly. Had she ever forgiven Mary for that night? "Yes. She and Anna woke me up and we..." her voice wavered, but she found encouragement in the warmth of Sarah's hand. "We carried his body back to his room, and pretended none of it had ever happened."

Sarah was willing to bet Cora had never had a thank you. She'd carried a sodding _corpse_ for her daughter and no doubt Lady Mary had continued to strut round like she owned the bloody house and was already the Countess, but she'd buggered that up, hadn't she? And she had noone to blame but herself.

"I suppose you find it all rather repulsive?"

Cora's voice was suddenly so small that Sarah wanted to gather her close all over again, but she restrained herself and comforted her instead by stroking her thumb over the back of her hand. Holding her the first time had been torture enough.

"Not at all, m'lady. I admire you for it." Her lips quirked up in a smile. "We're not all strong enough to carry a corpse across the length of an 'ouse, m'lady...an' you did it for Mary. You did it for your daughter."

Cora acknowledged the point with a tremulous smile, and blinked back sudden tears as she clutched the other woman's hands tighter. "So you don't think me a monster?"

Sarah snorted softly, shaking her head and fought back the urge to pull her close and let her kiss do the talking for her; maybe _that_ would demonstrate what she thought of her. A monster indeed!

"If anybody in this room is a monster, it's not you m'lady."

Cora smiled, ducking her head for a moment to gather herself back together. Really, was she doomed to forever fall apart in this woman's presence? No wonder she had left; the poor thing was probably exhausted!

"You ought to give me 'er address," Sarah murmured after a moment of silence. She smirked fondly. "I'd 'appily settle it for you."

"My dear O'Brien, what exactly are you proposing?"

"Anythin' m'lady." A beat passed. "I'd do anythin' for you."

"I suppose we can't have her assassinated," Cora quipped.

"No m'lady, more's the pity."

In fact, Sarah would be an alarmingly willing assassin for Cora. No wonder she'd never _really_ been in love before; it made a bloody fool of her!

Cora smiled and squeezed Sarah's hand. "Will you stay the night, Sarah?"

If Sarah was surprised by Cora's use of her Christian name, it didn't show on her face, but the nod of assent was all she really needed.

* * *

><p>That night she was joined by the Countess herself clutching a bottle of brandy and two glasses and grinning at her like a Cheshire cat. She barely heard the tentative knock at the door, but a second later found the door creeping open and Cora sticking her head around the door<p>

"I hope I didn't wake you."

"Not at all m'lady. I 'ave a big day tomorrow, I don't think I'll sleep a wink."

She was lying. She'd been on the verge of sleep before the Countess had come creeping in, but she'd be daft to complain. She wasn't ready to say goodbye yet.

"Let me take those off you m'lady," Sarah muttered and began to sit up but was interrupted by a shake of Cora's head.

"Believe it or not, there are _some_ things I can manage, and carrying is one of them."

Sarah smirked; she hadn't seen much evidence of that, but then she'd believe everything Cora said, even now with a fiancé waiting for her at home. She glanced at the bottle in Cora's hands, arching her brow.

"So this is why you're denyin' Mrs. Hughes the permission to slash the brandy supply. You're 'oarding it all yourself."

"Not _all_ of it," Cora giggled, sliding unceremoniously on Sarah's little bed – it was still bigger than the one back home – and pushing a glass into her hand. "Just a bottle or two for a special occasion, and your visiting me is _very_ special, O'Brien."

Sarah flushed and ducked her head immediately, busying herself in taking the bottle from Cora's clumsy hands because Mrs. Hughes would never forgive her for staining the sheets, whether she worked here or not, and pouring them both a generously sized glass. There was a great well of emotion in her chest at the idea that Cora thought anything to do with her special. She'd hoped the distance would do her good, and perhaps it had, but it was all gone now; her progress had been swept away in a matter of minutes at the sight of the other woman, and their closeness now, in her bloody _bed_, didn't help matters.

"I'm glad to be 'ere, m'lady. You've done so well with the 'ospital an' it's been an 'onour to help you today."

Cora smiled gratefully and accepted the glass from Sarah, taking a little sip and settling back against the headboard. Her shoulder brushed against the other woman's but she saw no reason to move. The closeness was wonderful after months of distance.

"I'd ask you to stay longer, but I know you can't."

Sarah busied herself in sipping her own drink, swallowing the liquid and feeling her cheeks flush in response, but suspected Cora's touch had something to do with the sudden heat too. She didn't think Cora had the foggiest about her feelings for her – how could she? – but she was doing a bloody good job of driving her crazy. "If you asked me, I would."

Cora smiled sadly and turned her head to meet the other woman's eyes. "But you can't, and I won't. I've been selfish enough these past fifteen years."

"You've never been selfish." She stopped herself at Cora's smirk, and found herself grinning too. "Well…sometimes maybe a little. But I 'aven't minded…." She took another drink from her glass as Cora looked to her own, before her curiosity got the better of her. "'ow is 'is lordship? Won't 'e miss you tonight?"

Cora was silent for a moment, and Sarah tried not to frown. "I doubt his lordship would notice I was gone if he _hadn't _decided to sleep in his dressing room."

"Then 'e's a fool." It was an immediate response and Sarah might have held her tongue in the past, but not now. Any idiot who had a wife like Cora and _ignored_ her was clearly a fool.

Cora smirked softly and reached up to brush a tear away. "That I won't dispute. But he's a good man and I suppose I've been very busy."

"An' with good reason."

"Perhaps." She traced the rim of her glass absently with her finger as she drew in a short breath. "Sarah, when did everything get so _hard_?"

Sarah's heart clenched; bollocks to bloody propriety, Cora needed her and she wrapped an arm around the other woman's shoulders, cuddling her close. Cora sank into the embrace immediately, resting her head against her shoulder and Sarah responded by patting her hair. "When we went to war, m'lady."

"I don't think so," Cora whispered, closing her eyes as she reveled in the embrace. "I think it was when you left."

The words were a sword to her stomach and Sarah's response was immediate. Mickey probably wouldn't like it but he didn't, with good reason, understand her relationship with Cora and he would simply have to accept it. She felt a pang of guilt at how easy she found it to cast Mickey aside; he didn't deserve her, but she had never pretended otherwise, had she? "'ow about if I stay a week?"

Cora peered up from her position on Sarah's shoulder and her brow creased in confusion. "Can your father spare you?"

"We 'ave a little bit of help." It wasn't exactly the way to describe Mickey's role in her life, but it would do in Cora's presence. "They can spare me for a week."

"Are you _sure_?" Cora breathed, and there was so much hope in her voice that it nearly broke Sarah's heart all over again and she leaned in to press an instinctive kiss to her forehead. It was more than she had ever imagined she would be permitted to do, even if it hadn't been her forehead she had been dreaming of kissing, and it made her feel better than she had for months. She nodded decisively, tightening her arms around the woman she loved and pushed Scouthead completely out of her thoughts.

"Positive."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I was only going to update once today but my wonderful flatmate and bestie Scarlet Secret read The Woman in Black like a loser when she was alone in the house and I'm not home 'til late tonight. So this is for her. If you hear a rocking chair, don't investigate dude.

* * *

><p>"My lady…I wonder whether I might have a moment of your time, only I have something on my mind that…disturbs me, deeply."<p>

"Oh?" Cora murmured with a manufactured smile, folding her hands in her lap and momentarily abandoning her needlework. She'd never been especially good at it anyway, and with Sarah gone she had nobody to unpick her many mistakes.

A day. That was how long Sarah had been gone and already Cora was despondent. Goodness, had she always been this weak? Sarah's visit had done her the world of good and even Violet had commented on it, but she was back now to precisely where she had been before, and facing the arrival of a whole new lady's maid who she couldn't help but despise in advance.

Still, miserable or not she had all the time in the world for Carson, and if she could do anything to relieve the burdens he admittedly heaped upon his own shoulders – he seemed to think the house would fall apart without his personal input into everything, and perhaps it would – she would do it gladly. "What is this source of discomfort, Carson?"

Carson hesitated. He never expected to ever be having a conversation quite like this with her ladyship but there was no stepping around it now. He'd already trespassed on the Countess' precious time, and he knew better than most that she was sharper than she looked. She wouldn't believe him now if he told her it was nothing, and he had never been very good at thinking on his feet.

"It's…his lordship. He's behaving rather strange as of late and I…It gives me no pleasure to have to say this m'lady, I've always held his lordship in the highest regard-"

"What is it Carson?" Cora pressed in concern. She felt a prickle of trepidation down her spine and tightened her fists around her needlework. Did Carson _doubt_ Robert? She couldn't remember a single incident of the sort; sometimes she thought Carson's opinion mattered even more to Robert than her own, and Carson was_ unswervingly_ loyal to his master.

"I am concerned he is growing too close to one of the maids, m'lady," he blurted.

Carson never blurted, he was much too dignified for such a lack of control, but he'd never had to broach such a difficult subject before. He saw her ladyship's brow knit in front of him, and was half-tempted to place his hand on her shoulder in support, but that would be entirely inappropriate. It occurred to him this entire conversation had long since _surpassed_ inappropriate, but he not only had a duty to Downton, but to her lady too and he could not abide this indiscretion, and certainly not from a man he'd sworn blind loyalty to.

To her eternal credit, Lady Grantham barely even flinched. He remembered the frightened young American he'd met so many years ago, clumsily shaking his hand like he was a Duke and shyly stuttering a greeting and compared her to the woman sitting in front of him now. She was just as beautiful, even more so, as older women often were, and in possession of a wealth of charm she'd only refined as the years went by. But somewhere along the way she had lost the light from her eyes.

"Which maid?" Cora asked, as if it _really_ mattered. She had her suspicions of course; he was hardly the type for a wide-eyed, youthful mistress, but if he had been feeling neglected – and she supposed he had; she could almost understand, heaven help her – perhaps a younger, fresh-faced and star struck maid would fit the bill rather nicely?

"Jane, my lady."

"The new maid, with the boy?"

Carson nodded and fought to keep the sympathy from his face. He knew, from experience, that sympathy was the last thing her ladyship wanted or needed. What she needed, or rather _who_, she needed this time she could not have.

"What precisely have you-"

No. She didn't want to know. It was enough that Carson has deemed it concerning enough to warrant alerting her, and Cora had had quite enough heartache to last a lifetime. Still, it didn't hurt almost as much as it should. Her husband, the noble, ingratiatingly _nice_ Robert Crawley and a maid, and all she could think was how she had experience in concealing a scandal?

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Carson. I would prefer you mentioned this to nobody else."

She was fairly sure he would have spoken to Mrs. Hughes already – the two were as thick as thieves, and if _Carson_ had noticed something like this she was positive the housekeeper had noticed long ago given how close an eye she kept on her staff – but, Sarah O'Brien aside, there was no one she trusted more.

Carson nodded immediately. As far as her ladyship was concerned, what he had witnessed had been forgotten. He wished the reality was just as simple, but like many things in life it often wasn't.

"Of course, my lady."

He hesitated, and Cora met his eyes in question. She wasn't quite sure she could cope with any further bombshells today; she wanted nothing more than a hot bath and an early night and a tray for dinner, and oh _god_ did she need O'Brien.

"Is there something else, Carson?" _Please let that be all._

"What should I do about Jane, my lady? Only...the _usual_ response would be to dismiss her."

Oh, she had no doubt it was the usual response, but something held her back now, some sort of apathy she had never expected to feel in this position, and wasn't it her place as Robert's wife to indulge his desires? Even if they were for a maid and not her? She couldn't imagine Violet Crawley being so calm about her own Lord Grantham becoming rather personal with a maid, but she was not, as her mother-in-law had made it so obvious in the past, Violet Crawley and Robert was not his father.

Carson was still waiting for an answer, and Cora gathered her thoughts for enough time to give the man a soft shake of her head.

"That's not what will happen here, Carson."

"But my lady—"

"That's all, Carson." Her heart swelled at Carson's obvious regard for her – he so rarely spoke out of turn, yet he had done so out of concern for her, but she had said all she cared to about the matter. "You can return to your duties."

Carson left her, with obvious reluctance, to her demons, and for the fifth, possibly sixth time that day, Cora lamented the absence of Sarah O'Brien.

* * *

><p>"You stayed there longer than I expected." Mickey ventured as they toasted the end of a long day with a pint of beer in the local pub.<p>

Sarah had only been back for a day and she was lost to him already, and it had taken him hours to get up the courage to approach the topic of her visit to Downton. Asking her how it went when he had met her coming off the train had been bad enough, but with a bit of booze in her and a day to put aside her disappointment at leaving the place she had once called home, he hoped she would be more talkative.

He smiled as lightly as he could. "We could 'ave done with your 'elp."

"I didn't expect to stay that long. But 'm back now."

That was better than nothing at least, but she was still as bloody miserable as she had been first thing that morning. Apparently the trip had been uneventful but something had clearly happened, and he would bet every penny he had saved for their future it concerned the apparently saintly Lady Grantham. Sarah hadn't mentioned her name once since she had come home.

"Did you 'ave a good time?" he tried again.

Sarah's lips curled up in a nostalgic smile. "Yeah. I saw Thomas, the bloke I told you about, an' Mrs Hughes; she's still a miserable cow but I'd missed her. Not that I'd ever admit it."

But still no mention of the Countess. Maybe he had mistaken their closeness but she'd all but picked up her skirts and ran to the woman a week ago, so it wasn't likely.

"And 'er? You saw 'er ladyship?"

Sarah stiffened at that and narrowed her eyes as she looked up from her beer. "Of course I did. Why else would I 'ave gone back?"

Mickey shrugged. "I was just askin'. Was she well?"

"No actually. Not really. Silly cow's exhausted 'erself. I 'ad to stay a bit longer, just to make sure she's eatin' properly. She's always been a skinny thing, but—" Sarah broke off, screwing up her nose at the look on Mickey's face. "What?"

"Nothin'," Mickey shrugged, forcing a smile. "You just speak like she's family, or…" Something else occurred to him that he had never contemplated before and seemed utterly unlikely but still…

"Or what?" Sarah narrowed her eyes, but inside her heart was racing.

"Nothin'," he repeated in a conciliatory manner designed to put them _both_ at ease. "'er friend, I suppose. It's not often you 'ear of one of our kind and one of 'ers takin' tea and writing back and forth."

It wasn't just rare; the relationship between Sarah and Cora Crawley was nothing short of damned odd, but who was he to question it?

"An' is there anythin' wrong with that?"

"Of course not!" he exploded suddenly. "Bloody hell Sarah, 'm just curious. I'm 'ardly the sodding Spanish Inquisition!"

Sarah sighed. Jesus Christ, how she felt for Cora was written all over her bloody face wasn't it? She smiled apologetically, leaning to press her lips to Mickey's cheek. It might compensate for having her head in the clouds, but it didn't come close to making up for her treacherous heart.

"I'm sorry. 'm just worried about her."

That much was obvious and Mickey did his best to forget the nagging thought in the back of his mind that was accompanied by a surge of sickness in his gut and something resembling jealousy.

"Are you glad to be home?" Mickey asked gently, changing tack and reaching to take Sarah's hand. He was relieved by the smile on Sarah's face and her affirmative nod, and if her smile was a little tighter than usual he pointedly ignored it. Sarah was home and he was hers and Cora Crawley was miles away, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

><p>As often happened, Cora's month went from bad to worse. She had spent the majority of it watching Robert closely and observing the maid of whom Carson had spoke and had come to the conclusion that whatever it was the butler had seen, she saw it too and when she followed him – god help him, she had followed him like a common fishwife – there had been no need to speculate anymore.<p>

Robert and the maid were lovers and quite possibly had been for some time.

She had not needed to hear Robert's whispered declarations and invitations to his dressing room, though she had heard them very clearly indeed from her position behind the wall, to confirm that; she could see if well enough in the warmth of their eyes and the gentle affection that she barely remembered sharing with her husband, and conversations about the housemaid's son whom Robert asked after with such fondness that she would have suspected Freddy to be _his_ if she didn't know her husband better. He was sleeping with a housemaid but he would never sire a lovechild. He was much too good a man for that, and much too careful of his own position, even now.

But the worst thing, the utterly unexpected thing, was the thing that occurred to her after a mere five minutes of observing Robert and Jane. She could have coped with sex. She might have even resigned herself to a lovechild, but not this. Not love. Her husband was in love with Jane Moorsum, and that, she found, hurt rather a lot.

But one thing at a time.

Cora had never expected she'd have to have _this_ conversation with any of her daughter's, but of all of the girls she supposed it would have to be Sybil, her beautiful, rebellious, and far too progressive for her own good Sybil who had fallen in love with a _chauffeur_ and was determined to marry him.

To say it had been a _shock_ was an understatement to say the least, and lord knew how she managed to remain so calm with Tom Branson standing in front of all of them with his arm curled protectively around her child and her husband's words so loud they shook the very core of the house itself. She grieved in that moment, seeing her daughter's resolve and the chauffeur's determination. She'd said goodbye to Sybil once before, but this time she had lost her for good.

Robert had excused himself long ago, and that had admittedly been the best thing for all of them. His furious admonishments had done nothing but upset Sybil more, and in Cora's experience the angrier Sybil got the more disobedient she tended to be, and the last thing she wanted was for Robert to continue bellowing until he drove Sybil all the way to Dublin and beyond and split his poor mother's – though Violet was anything but fragile and would no doubt outlive them all – ear drums. The house was quiet now; Mary and Edith had long since gone to bed, leaving Cora and Sybil alone in the very bedroom Sybil had fled only hours ago. Gretna Green, really. They could at _least_ have done a little more research before they'd taken off into the night!

"Are you absolutely sure this is necessary, Sybil?" Cora asked carefully. "Are you sure these feelings aren't merely temporary? He's very handsome, I would understand-"

Sybil sighed. She understood her family's surprise, but did they really think her so narrow-minded? "It has nothing to do with his looks Mama."

"But how do you know that, darling? You're so young, you're _both_ so young, but there can be no mistakes for our kind of people. If you're wrong-"

"I'm not wrong."

"You sound so certain, darling."

She couldn't help but sympathise with her daughter's plight. Sybil wasn't the wasn't the first young woman to fall for a handsome servant and she certainly wouldn't be the last; a friend of hers had given up everything she had for a young footman who had caught her eye, but the difference was Ingrid had been thirty-nine, she had _had_ her children and done her duty and everything else that was expected of her. Sybil had her entire _life_ ahead of her and to toss it all away, everything she and Robert had ever wanted for her, on a _chauffeur_…

"I am. I love Tom and I want to be his wife, and nothing you or Papa or Mary or Edith can say will change my mind; it's quite made up."

Sybil smiled softly, reaching for her mother's hands and gripping them both in hers and Cora immediately cursed her own softness; she was already beginning to melt and stood no chance against the warmth in her daughter's eyes. Robert had always been the one to give into Sybil's every whim – she had him wrapped around her damn finger, and it wouldn't be long before he caved, even after _this_ – but she was really just as bad sometimes. But she was a woman now, not the same little girl that had wobbled tentatively around the bedroom in her mother's shoes and Cora reluctantly had to admit that she knew her own mind, even if her decision defied her mother's own wishes.

_The chauffeur Cora, she's running away with the chauffeur!_

"Haven't you ever cared for somebody you shouldn't have, Mama?"

Cora opened her mouth to respond; of course she'd had the usual crushes as a girl – what woman hadn't? Even _Violet_ had been taken in before by a uniform, Cora was certain – but she had never _done_ anything with Papa's young groom and the feelings had quickly passed and she'd soon found herself in England and in love with the young Viscount Downton. But she suddenly felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

It was so obvious in that moment it was a wonder she had never realised before, but it was suddenly so blatant and undeniable that she found it difficult to breathe with the force of the knowledge.

She had missed her so dearly it had been so hard to understand why she felt as terrible as she did, why she missed her quite so much she didn't think she could carry on without her, why she barely even _cared_ Robert had fallen for a maid right under her nose, but the entire time – and maybe even longer, heaven's knew – she had been in love.

She was in _love_ with Sarah O'Brien.

"Mama?"

Cora snapped back to reality and met her daughter's concerned eyes. She fought off the blush rapidly staining her cheeks but she could do nothing about the pounding of her heart as she recalled every smile, every glance, every touch of Sarah's hand with entirely new meaning. She had told Rosamund pining was for lovers; that statement seemed curiously apt now.

"You realise your life will be very different?"

_Monumentally_ different, but perhaps better for it? The world was changing, _people_ were changing, and if she could fall in love with her lady's maid – with a woman no less – then was it really that catastrophic for Sybil to marry a chauffeur who would be a journalist? She could do so much worse, and the boy clearly loved her, loved her enough to stand firm and immovable in the face of Robert's fury and face up to all of the rest of them with such bravery. Goodness, she even admired him for it! But heavens knew there would never be a happy ending for a Countess and her lady's maid.

"I don't want any money," Sybil replied softly. She kept her eyes trained on her mother, curious and concerned by the blush that had suddenly risen on her cheeks. She couldn't think what she might have said to embarrass or upset Mama, at least nothing _other_ than forsake her so called 'duty' in favour of Tom's love, but her mother had been quiet lately, worrying so. Even amongst everything else she had noticed that.

She reached to take her mother's hand. "Are you alright, Mama?"

Cora let out a breath. The last thing she needed was her daughter to notice the fact her entire _world_ had been rocked to the core. She smiled as convincingly as she could manage and stroked her thumb over Sybil's knuckles.

"It's been rather a shock, darling. Papa and I," she was beginning to tire of making excuses for Robert now when most days what she wanted most was to scream at him for his indifference and now for hurting her by acting on his feelings for the maid when she would never dream of doing the same, but what did it really matter anymore? "have only ever wanted the best for you."

But…why _shouldn't_ she act on it?

She had no idea how difficult it had been for Robert to indulge in his feelings. He could have struggled with the decision for as long as Jane had been here for all she knew. But however long it had taken him to make the leap from wanting more to _taking_ more, it had been nowhere near as long as Cora had waited for Sarah O'Brien, even if she hadn't known she was so in love she could barely think of anything else now.

And she was only two hours away by car. If her daughter could be brave enough to marry the man she loved, surely she could tell Sarah how she felt? There was every chance her feelings would be reciprocated, and if not…well, she wouldn't think about that yet.

Sybil kissed her cheek, wrapping her arms around her, and Cora clung back for an overly long moment, drawing strength from the girl that Sybil really should have been drawing from her, but this time her daughter was the brave one, and she was left with a decision she couldn't even begin to know how to make.

"I know, Mama. And I love you both dearly, but I love Tom too, and my mind is made up." She pulled back. Her lips quirked up in an impish smile and for a moment Cora almost recognised her little girl. "I'd like your blessing, but I don't _need_ it."

Cora couldn't help but smirk at that. She could have _her_ blessing – she was in love with her lady's maid, she was hardly one to talk about the proper way of things – but Robert's would be much harder to come by.

"You have mine. But I'd prefer it if you kept that from Papa."

Sybil grinned, gripping her hand. She ducked her head as her smile momentarily faltered. "You'll visit...won't you Mama?"

Cora's own smile froze, but she did her best to sound as positive as possible. Robert might be gallivanting around with a housemaid, but she was still his wife and Countess. There was still her duty to consider. "I'm required to support your father, darling. But I'll do my best to twist his arm."

"You've always been rather good at that," Sybil smiled bravely, but Cora couldn't help but think Jane would have more success in changing Robert's mind than she would. He was rather a hypocrite actually!

But then, wasn't she the same – contemplating jumping in a car and having somebody drive her hours cross country and into the arms of another woman? That was if Sarah would haveher! She could only imagine Tom Branson pouring his heart out to Sybil, wearing it so blatantly on his sleeve and pursuing her so doggedly but with all the honor and respect with which he'd faced up to her family, but _Sarah_… How would she ever know how the other woman felt, without asking her herself, without _doing_ something to demonstrate the way she felt and facing rejection? And then she would lose Sarah altogether, and whilst she could face the lack of reciprocation, she certainly couldn't live without the other woman entirely. Cora wished she could be at brazen as Rosamund but she had _some_ standards, although she couldn't decide what was worse; marrying a sinister Russian Count or loving her lady's maid.

Cora stroked her fingers over Sybil's cheek, kissing her nose as she had done when she had been a child, and gently sent her on her way. With her mother's blessing, hopefully Sybil would sleep tonight. The same could not be said for her.


	9. Chapter 9

Throughout the journey to Scouthead, Cora had been high on adrenaline and the desperate need to tell Sarah how she felt, but, after what felt like hours later, she had made it to the O'Brien's farm, and she couldn't help but wonder if she had made a mistake. What was the likelihood, really, of Sarah O'Brien feeling the same way she did? She had never given her any indication she did, just the services of a devoted maid who was particularly good at her job and somewhat fond of her mistress, and fondness by no means equated to _love_. But she loved Sarah, more than she could possibly say, and as risky as it had been to come here in the hopes of being loved in return, surely it would to worth it just to _know_?

She sucked in a breath as the car vanished around the corner, leaving her well and truly at the mercy of her former maid. The door to the little farmhouse seemed impossibly intimidating, given its rather meager size, for no other reason than for the woman she would find beyond it and the reality of what she had come here to do, but she forced herself to walk toward it, her heart pounding furiously with every step, until she stood before it and outstretched her arm to knock.

The door swung open before she got the chance, and, to her equal delight and despair, found herself greeted by an entirely different woman with eager eyes and a welcoming smile, and an impossibly charming little girl resting against her hip.

"You're her! You're the _Countess_, aren't you? I 'eard the car and saw you an' I _knew_ it was you."

Cora's lips curled up in a bemused smile at the clear excitement on the younger woman's face. Her title so rarely garnered this sort of reaction anymore, not in the circles she tended to frequent. She socialized with Duchesses, Marchionesses - Susan Flintshire was a notable example, although she preferred to spend as little time with _that_ woman as possible - and all manner of women whose positions and statuses eclipsed hers utterly. Even Sarah no longer looked at her with the awe she'd tried so hard to conceal in those first few months of employment, but this girl looked at Cora like she was the Queen herself and she was extremely happy to indulge her - and if her _own_ ego was boosted by the conversation, well then that was only a bonus!

"Yes I am. And you must be...Julie?"

If it was possible, the other woman beamed all the more. To think that a _countess_ knew her name! Sarah must have told her, and she'd remembered, and she was smiling so beautifully, like she might want to be her friend! That was unlikely of course – no countess would want to be friends with an O'Neill, least of all her – but Julie nodded eagerly all the same, and loosened her grip on her daughter lest she accidentally crush her.

"Julie O'Neill, m'lady; well, O'Brien now that I'm married to our George, but before that I was O'Neill-" Julie broke off, blushing and cursing her runaway mouth. George had always said she could talk for England if she wanted to, but this was a _countess_ and she'd already make a bloody idiot of herself! "'m so glad to meet you, m'lady. Sarah's told us so much about you!"

"Has she? All good, I hope?"

"Oh _yes, _m'lady. She speaks of you so 'ighly, and when she does we can never get a word in edgewise!"

"I'll be sure to have a word with her about that."

"Oh no! I _love_ 'earing about you, m'lady, an' your girls an' Downton Abbey. It all sounds like such a fairytale."

One thing it wasn't was a fairytale, but Julie O'Brien couldn't be expected to understand that. From the outside, Cora supposed her life did seem rather blessed, and in some ways it was. She had three beautiful girls she adored, financial stability, whether her fortune was her own now or not. And despite it all, she suspected Robert did still love her. But she didn't have Sarah, and her absence had left a hole in her heart she was determined to fill once again, and once Sarah knew she loved her, she would come back.

"Perhaps you'd like to visit Downton some day? I'd be happy to give you a tour myself."

"You...you _would_? Oh if only George was 'ere m'lady - he's always wanted to see Downton, an'—" she broke off. George had never said anything of the sort; he was a miserable git really but she was _her_ miserable git, and even if he had wanted to visit Downton would he ever get the chance now?

Cora leaned forward and gently covered Julie's hand with hers, giving it a squeeze and Julie, a smile. She could only imagine the other woman's pain; at least Robert was exempt from the war and Sarah was right here, utterly safe in the company of her family. She had no sons to worry about, no brothers she might lose. The only man she had to worry about was Cousin Matthew, and – though it pained her to admit it – she would lose little sleep over his safety. But women like Julie O'Brien had _everything_ to lose, and if a tour of Downton gave her even a minute of happiness, Cora was determined to make it happen.

"Of course! You've already made me feel so wonderfully at home here; the least I can do is reciprocate." She looked to the little girl in the other woman's eyes, peering up at her so curiously but full of patience she didn't remember any of her children possessing at such a tender age. She smiled softly. "And this must be Ivy?"

"Oh, yes!" Julie blushed at her own forgetfulness, but it wasn't every day one entertained a countess, and hoisted the girl up higher on her hip.

"I'd be happy to hold her for you," Cora offered gently. "I've had three girls of my own, and somehow I've managed to avoid dropping them."

"Are you...are you sure?"

"Of course! O'Brien is so terribly proud of her nephews and nieces and I am so pleased to be finally meeting one of them, and she's such a beautiful girl too."

Ivy giggled and Julie beamed in pride, and thrust the girl rather suddenly in Cora's arms. She steadied them quickly, adjusting Ivy in her arms – she was heavier than Sybil had been at her age, but her youngest had been a small child from birth, whereas Mary had been big and boisterous and utterly unlike the woman she had grown up to be. Mary was cool and calculated now, and she couldn't make heads or tails of her relationships with Matthew and Richard Carlisle, and Cora found herself hankering for her children when they were Ivy's age – utterly innocent and not running away with chauffeurs.

She smiled down at Ivy charmingly and brushed back a messy lock of fair hair. "Do you know something darling, your dress might be the prettiest dress I have ever seen…"

* * *

><p>"I'm gaggin' for a pint," Sarah declared as they neared the house. After a long day at work, it was a welcome sight and she smirked at her fiancé happily.<p>

"Now you're talkin'!" Mickey grinned. "Why don't we take Julie an' the kids and go out as a family for some food an' drinks? I think we've earned it, after all the bloody work we've done today!"

Sarah smirked and nodded in agreement but frowned instead as she heard voices as she came closer to the house. Her sister-in-law of course – she'd be able to hear Julie jabbering on a mile away – and Ivy, but there was another voice too, one she recognized but she hadn't ever expected to hear again, and never _here_. It was just as musical as before, as perfectly and charmingly odd as it always had been, but what the bloody hell was it doing here in bleedin' _Scouthead_?

She must be dreaming. She had fainted in the middle of the field and Mickey and her dad were trying to revive her now, because Cora fucking Crawley wouldn't come here in a million years and certainly not when she was covered in dirt and smelling like fucking cow muck!

Her stomach fluttered in anticipation as they drew closer to the back door, and she pointedly ignored Mickey's funny look. Whether he'd heard the new voice or not, he couldn't possibly know what she was thinking, how last night, even lying in his arms, she'd have given anything to hear _her_ voice instead of his, but now she was contemplating running in the opposite direction. She wasn't ready for this, wasn't at all ready to see her sodding perfect face and remember all she had left behind a month ago. Her letters were torture enough, but to see Cora Crawley in person again, and in her own bloody home...

"Are we expectin' company?" Mickey asked quietly from behind her, and Sarah did her best not to meet his eyes. He was already suspicious, clever bastard, and she wouldn't have him privy to the kind of anguish Cora never failed to incite in her these days.

"Not s'far as I know," she shrugged as blithely as possible.

"But you do recognize 'er voice?"

Sarah tried not to scowl at his persistence. "I can't 'ear it well enough yet."

He'd be stupid to believe her though, and one thing Mickey wasn't was stupid. There was only _one_ posh American that would ever have cause to come here, and the likelihood of it being anyone but Cora was small. But why did she have to come all the way out here with Mickey here with her?

She steeled herself as they walked in through the back doors and, just as she'd expected and even more beautiful than before, was the Countess of Grantham, with her bloody niece seated in her lap. Ivy loved her of course, all kids did, and Sarah couldn't help but smile, already as lost in her voice as her niece was, despite the hammering of her heart in her chest that she was sure Mickey must be able to hear. At the very least the blush on her cheeks was unmistakable.

But Mickey faded quickly into the background and she sucked in a breath as the other woman finally seemed to notice her presence. Her story – something about a silly princess meeting a queen for the first time and knocking over a priceless vase that she recognized as the time Cora had first arrived at Downton and met the Dowager Countess – halted immediately and Sarah did her best to smile warmly as her niece whined at the interrupting in the distance.

"Hello m'lady."

This was even more difficult than Cora could have ever imagined, and the sight of Sarah was even more glorious. She looked even more beautiful than she had remembered, with her hair a charming mess around her dirt-smudged face, and her clothes askew and covered in dust. She almost forgot to breathe at the sight of her, and her words stopped dry. She could hear Ivy protesting in the background and she absently stroked her hair to compensate for her abrupt end to the tale, but she didn't think she could keep going now if she tried. The only words she wanted to say were the three she had been practicing since she had left Downton, but she croaked out another two instead.

"Hello, O'Brien."

"Sarah, m'lady," she smiled with a gentle shake of her head. She had called her Sarah back at Downton and she had missed Cora's pronunciation desperately. "'m not O'Brien here."

Cora nodded in acknowledgement, smiling softly and full of warmth, and opened her mouth to respond before she spotted the man behind Sarah, the man sliding his hand onto her former maid's hip and squeezing gently. He was handsome, very handsome in a rather rugged sort of way, and smiling charmingly, ready to be introduced. Cora had been trained to hold out her hand and begin the introductions herself, but the awful reality of the caress struck Cora suddenly and she found it impossible to do anything but gape.

Sarah had moved on. No, she hadn't moved on, because she had never been hers in the first place! She had never been anything but her maid and a friend, and she'd had no right to come here, unannounced and prepared to spill her heart out like the fool she very clearly was...to expect Sarah to love her too. Good lord, she was so _stupid_.

She forced a smile as she grasped at her background in society to greet the man at Sarah's side, grateful to Julie as she gently took the girl from her lap, and pushed herself up to stand, willing the tears away. There was nothing she could do about the stabbing pain in her heart, but she couldn't let Sarah see her cry. The other woman might not love her, but she had a rather impressive knack for anticipating Cora's moods, and she had seen heartbreak on her face before. But never because of her.

"I don't think we've been introduced," she murmured softly. "I'm Cora Crawley."

Sarah shot Mickey a glare, nudging him faintly. "This is the Countess of Grantham, Mickey."

"Of course, m'lady." Mickey shook her hand immediately. "I thought so but I didn't want to embarrass both of us by bein' wrong. 'm Mickey Briggs, Sarah's fiancé."

Fiancé. How Cora managed to keep the pain from her face in that moment, she would never know, but she'd had rather a lot of practice lately with Robert.

"Fiancé!" Cora beamed. "Well, clearly congratulations are in order. I'm thrilled for you Sarah, although I suppose this means I can't tempt you back to Downton."

"Do you want me back?" Sarah blurted quickly. She saw Mickey glance at her in question out of the corner of her eye but focused her attention entirely on Cora.

Cora swallowed faintly and tears threatened to fall at just how badly she wanted Sarah back, but she had done so well so far and she had to keep going until she got out of this damn farm and back to the safety of Downton.

"Of course! But now you are engaged and I shall have to resign myself to your never coming back!" She smiled as cheerily as she could manage and looked between the two. "Have you set a date?"

"Are you alright, m'lady?" Sarah frowned suddenly.

"Fine!" Cora replied quickly, although it took all of her acting talent to do so. "Of course I'm fine, I'm so happy for you, I...I really just came to say hello, and I've done that and I've met your charming family and your charming fiancé and now I really must get back to Downton. If I stay any longer, Cousin Isobel will have taken over by the time I return!"

"You're leavin' _now_?"

There was a note of disappointment in Sarah's voice that made Cora freeze.

"You've only just got 'ere m'lady, and…well, I've missed you. There's plenty of room," she ignored her father's brief glance, "an' Mrs. Crawley won't take over if you're only gone a day. Mrs. Hughes wouldn't let it 'appen."

Cora forced a smile. Sarah didn't love her, but she supposed she cared for her and she felt another pang in her heart as she replied. "No, I don't suppose she would. She's become my closest ally really, but she's no substitute for you."

"Oh! This is my father, Mel O'Brien—"

"_Melvyn_ O'Brien, thank you," Mel glared briefly at his daughter. He reached out to take Cora's hand, bowing over it and brushing his lips briefly over her knuckles. Sarah sniggered from behind him but had the good grace to stop after a swift elbow in the ribs from Mickey. "It's an _honor_ to meet you, your ladyship. You're very welcome in my 'ome."

For the first time since she had seen Mickey squeeze Sarah's hip, Cora felt genuine warmth bubble up inside her chest at the gallantry of the old man and this time her smile was utterly real and beguiling. "Goodness, Sarah never told me you were quite this charming!"

"Sarah's never 'ad much in the way of good taste, my lady."

"Which is why she's marryin' me, I suppose," Mickey chimed in brightly, and fucking hell, Sarah wished he'd just shut up. She bit down on her irritation and turned her attention back to the Countess. "So you'll stay?" She offered Cora a tentative smirk. "I think you'll break dad's 'eart if you don't."

* * *

><p>Sarah found herself watching Cora closely as they ascended up the stairs. Cora must think her a royal idiot if she expected her not to notice that something was so very clearly wrong. She'd spent fourteen bloody years with the woman, memorized every expression and learnt every change in mood, and the last time she had seen such misery on her face – or rather, misery she was trying desperately to keep to herself, silly cow – was in the aftermath of the miscarriage, at the garden party she herself remembered so distinctly for the pain that had battered her chest that day.<p>

"This is very…cozy."

Sarah laughed, smirking to herself as she closed the door to her bedroom behind them and placed Cora's suitcase – her surprisingly small suitcase – on the floor beside the bed. Cozy was _one_ word for it, she supposed, but she suspected bloody tiny was a better match. There was space for nothing much more than a single bed and a chest of drawers that contained everything she owned, which wasn't a lot as it happened, but it was certainly more than she'd had before she left. The only thing not stuffed desperately into those drawers was Cora's dress, the chocolate one she still couldn't think of as her own, no matter how long she'd had it. That was far too precious to be hidden away. It had been from her, hadn't it? The only thing she'd had left of her as it happened and she had no intention of burying it in darkness.

But now Cora was here, in her bloody childhood bedroom; she'd come all the way from Downton Abbey to see _her _and she wished she could give her more than an prehistoric bed that was a quarter of the size of her own.

"It's not much m'lady, smaller than my room back at Downton, but it's home," she said, smiling and doing her best not to show Cora just how sodding nervous she was.

"It's perfect, Sarah."

Cora smiled at the other woman over her shoulder. Here, shut away in Sarah's bedroom, she felt significantly more at home than she had downstairs, and she didn't doubt that had everything to do with _his_ absence. It wasn't Mickey Briggs' fault though, and it was very chivalric of him to bow out and offer her the use of Sarah's bed, the bed they had presumably been sharing up until now.

"Are you alright, m'lady?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only to me. You forget 'ow well I know you…if you don't mind me sayin'."

"Oh Sarah, we're not as Downton anymore and you're no longer my lady's maid. And for heaven's sake, call me Cora."

"You'll 'ave to give me some time on that one."

She sounded cross, and Sarah momentarily panicked she'd said something wrong. She had never seen Cora quite so tense before, so near to bloody cracking; she had said nothing in her letters about anything being wrong, but Sarah supposed something _must_ be to shake the Countess this much. And she'd put money on it being to do with that great big bloody idiot of a husband of hers.

"D'you want to talk about it…Cora?" The name sounded foreign on her tongue but musical, like it always did in her head.

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to trouble you. You don't have to listen to all of my worries anymore, Sarah."

"Because I'm not your maid?" Sarah asked softly. "'m your friend though, an' I want to help, if I can."

Cora couldn't help but smile ruefully, hesitating before she sat down on the edge of the little bed – she was pleased to feel it was firm, not as thin and flimsy as she'd feared – and hugged her arms around her with a sigh. She couldn't tell Sarah the _entire _truth like she'd wanted to – she was engaged after all, and there was no place now for a former mistress who'd found herself in love with her – but there was some things she could tell her, things that had nothing to do with what it was she had really come here to do today.

"It's nothing you should concern yourself with. Just the war, the girls…Robert."

The name send a bolt of irritation through Sarah but she covered it rather bloody well and sat down next to the other woman; she wouldn't normally have the gall to be so familiar with Cora, but things had changed now and she'd called her lordship 'Robert' as she'd never done in her presence before. And maybe…taking her hand wasn't entirely out of the realms of possibility anymore? She'd seen her naked on a hundred sodding occasions after all – the memory of her body was even more torturous now than ever before – and so holding her hand when she needed comfort the most was hardly inappropriate, and so she did, reveling in the feel of their fingers entwining and skin and gloriously soft skin.

Sarah quirked up her lips in a tentative smirk. "I don't know if you should tell me. 'm not sure I could stop myself from racin' over to Downton and giving him what for."

"You'd do that?" Cora smirked fondly.

"Of course I would, darlin'," Sarah responded with immediacy and took her hand decisively. "I'd never let anyone hurt you."

Cora's heart fluttered and she ducked to head to hide her blush but the warmth in her heart soon turned to pain as she recalled the reason she was avoiding Robert in the first place.

"I'm not sure that he loves me anymore," she whispered. He certainly loved Jane, but she didn't want Sarah to know that yet.

"If that's true, then he's a bloody fool."

Sarah's words echoed those she had spoken at Downton Abbey, and Cora wholeheartedly agreed, but hadn't she driven Robert away? Wasn't it her fault? Besides, "I'm not sure that _I_ love him anymore. At least not like I did."

She smiled weakly, and Sarah's brow creased in confusion. She couldn't remember a time when the Countess hadn't been so in love with his lordship it made her sick, but perhaps it was true what everybody said about the war changing people. If Cora could fall out of love with Lord Grantham then _anything_ was possible.

_Not anything_, she thought, shivering as Cora's thumb drifted over her knuckles. _Not the one bloody thing I want most._

"You know you can stay 'ere for as long as you like, don't you?"

Cora forced a smile. Her heart felt immeasurably light at the statement but heavy too, weighted down by the reality of Sarah's engagement and the impossibility of what she wanted most of all. She'd fallen out of love with a man and fallen _in_ love with a woman, and _she_ had subsequently fallen in love with somebody else practically the minute she'd left her. It was all so horribly laughable really; if only it _was_ a joke.

"I couldn't deprive Mickey of your company for too long," she murmured with all the warmth she could muster. "I've already ousted him from your bed."

"I'm so glad you're 'ere, m'lady," Sarah responded bluntly. She didn't ever want Cora thinking anything of the sort, even if she could never know how readily she really would oust Mickey from her bed for her lady. "Please don't ever question my wantin' you 'ere. You could stay forever if you wanted it."

Cora took in a deep breath. It was terribly sweet of Sarah to say so, but of course it wasn't true and it was a fantasy. She quickly changed the subject.

"Did Thomas tell you Sybil is in love with the chauffeur?"

"With _Branson_?"

"Mmhmm," Cora smiled ruefully. If nothing else, gossip had always cheered her up. "She very nearly eloped; thank the lord Edith and Mary had the good sense to bring her back. They were on their way to Gretna Green!"

Sarah smirked. "I can't imagine 'is lordship liked that much."

"No," Cora conceded. "But then everything is changing, O'Brien – the world, and all the people in it. I hardly recognize Robert anymore…I hardly recognize _myself_."

"You 'aven't changed a bit m'lady," Sarah murmured softly, meeting her eyes. "Not to me."

"You have," Cora replied, smiling at the momentary flash of confusion on the other woman's face. "Oh, not in a bad way, don't worry. You're…softer somehow. Lighter. No doubt it's Mickey—"

"It's not." Sarah nearly blushed at the swiftness of her response, but she saw something in Cora's eyes that was only there for a second, but there all the same, that spurred her on and she squeezed her hand gently. "'e makes me smile, but 'e doesn't make me feel 'alf at home as I did—"

"_Sarah!"_

"Dad," Sarah explained remorsefully. "No doubt 'e's rustled up some lunch for you." She smiled as best she could despite the pounding of her heart; whatever had been in Cora's eyes was gone now, but she surely hadn't mistaken it. She could read her every mood like the page of a book, and for a moment there had been relief, and maybe even a little hope. "'e thinks you're too skinny an' frankly so do I."

Cora's lips curled into a small smirk. "Anna doesn't do things quite the way you do. Forgive me for being difficult, but I've grown rather fond of my napkins being folded into flowers."

"You mean she doesn't do that for you?" Sarah assumed an expression of faux-outrage.

Cora giggled. "Lord knows what they're teaching lady's maids these days. She can hardly _find_ the things I ask her to fetch."

Sarah pretended to shake her head in disgust. "Now that's just shockin'."

Cora grinned. She had almost forgotten just how funny Sarah was, but the amusement soon vanished and she looked down to their tightly clasped hands in a moment of doubt.

"Did I ask too much of you, Sarah?"

Sarah's brow creased. Where the bloody hell had she got an idea like _that_? "Nothin' I wouldn't do for you in a heartbeat, m'lady."

"_Sarah Jane O'Brien!"_

Cora breathed in quietly in an effort to stem the flow of emotion to her chest and forced a smile. She couldn't imagine sitting through dinner with this woman and her _fiancé_ but she had become something of a remarkable actress over three decades and she would do precisely that now; act.

"I think your father's beginning to lose his patience, and lady's don't keep gentlemen waiting." She forced a teasing smile. "Shall we…Sarah Jane?"

* * *

><p>As much as Cora so desperately wanted to hate Mickey, she couldn't help but <em>like<em> him. She had never laughed so much during dinner, had never enjoyed the company of strangers more. The O'Brien's quickly proved themselves splendid hosts and Julie, _bless_ her, had insisted upon serving dinner as if she were a footman, practically stumbling over herself just to make Cora happy, and what she had been so sure would be a thoroughly miserable evening had so far been nothing short of wonderful. Of course it had helped that Sarah had sat next to _her_ rather than her fiancé, and that the table had been so much smaller and narrower than the one at Downton that she'd spent the entirety of the meal with her thigh pressed splendidly against hers, and despite the pain still lingering in her heart she found herself relaxing with Sarah and falling immediately back into the ease of the relationship they had enjoyed before.

"She can pour 'erself a drink, y'know Julie."

Julie flushed. "I won't 'ear of it – a Countess serving 'erself? Not in this house! Not when I'm 'ere!"

"Dear Julie, I wish you'd call me Cora." Cora reached the pat the other woman's hand soothingly and with her most charming smile. "I feel I've already made a true friend in you."

Sarah smirked to herself. It never failed to amaze her how quickly Cora could wrap someone around her finger, even when she wasn't bloody trying, and if it made her sister-in-law – her _favorite_ sister-in-law – happy then why not? Besides, she was no better herself for falling for Cora's charms, in fact she was probably the worst of them all because there wasn't a sodding thing she wouldn't do for her.

"Sit down, Julie. You'll give us all indigestion movin' around so much."

Cora chuckled quietly. "Come sit down next to me, Julie. I think its high time Sarah did something, don't you?"

Sarah arched her brow, doing her best to suppress the grin that was fighting to break free. "Oh really, _m'lady_? An' here I was thinkin' I didn't work for you anymore."

Cora giggled. She leaned in closer, mirroring Sarah's expression and propped her chin up on the table. "Did you really think I would let you off that easily, dear O'Brien?"

"As if," Sarah smirked. "I might as well 'ave signed a contract in blood when you first took me on if you're bossin' me around in my own house!"

"I apologize," Cora drawled, quirking her eyebrow. Her eyes flickered almost unconsciously to Sarah's lips and she fought the urge to close the distance between them. "I'm used to getting precisely what I want, I'm afraid."

Across the table, Mickey shifted uncomfortably. Jesus, the air was practically electric and he felt his heart begin to sink in response. "Won't Lord Grantham miss you, your ladyship?"

Cora started, pulling back from the table and smiled with all the warmth she could muster for the man whose fiancée she had been rather shamelessly flirting with for the majority of dinner, but felt none of the guilt she really should. "He has rather a lot on his plate with the hospital, and his heir's engagement."

"Mr. Matthew is engaged?" Sarah asked curiously.

"Not to Mary, I'm afraid, but I can't help but like the girl. Her name is Lavinia."

"Oh, that's _such_ a beautiful name! I'd love to call a daughter that—"

"An' so you should," Mel interjected from the corner. He spared a small smile for the daughter-in-law who had been so brave for so long. "When George gets back I expect two more grandkids at least. We need to fill this 'ouse up again so it's fit to burst."

Cora smiled. "And you can bring them all to Downton, of course. Little Lavinia must meet her namesake after all, and she's the future Countess of Grantham."

"Fancy that!" Julie breathed in nothing short of wonderment. "My little girl named for a _Countess_!"

Sarah arched a brow as she cradled her pint glass, chancing a glance to the woman at her side. "If that's what you want, you'd be better callin' her Cora."

"Nonsense Sarah; that is the last thing Julie should do."

"An' why not?" Sarah challenged warmly. "Cora is a beautiful name an' my future niece couldn't 'ave a better namesake than you."

Mickey fought the urge to close his eyes in misery at the unadulterated love in Sarah's voice, and knew then there would be no winning her back. She had been lost to him from the start. "Does anyone want dessert?"

Cora looked reluctantly away from the woman grinning at her side to shake her head. "I'm not sure I could eat another bite, Mickey, but thank you."

"Me either," Sarah said, with almost indecent haste as she pushed away her plate and focused entirely upon her lady. "'ow about I show you to your room?"


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thank you to everyone for your continued support and feedback; here is an M rated chapter to thank you all properly!

* * *

><p>They unpacked Cora's possessions and straightened her bed in a companionable silence. After an admittedly enjoyable dinner, Sarah was relieved to finally have Cora to herself again, even if she was bloody useless at making beds, but Sarah was all too happy to do the work for her and have Cora smile instead. She was like sunshine when she smiled, and she needed a bit of that now, with her brothers still off in France. Everything seemed easier with Cora here, but Sarah was all too aware she couldn't stay here forever; she could be leaving tomorrow for all she knew, but didn't dare ask. It was better to remain oblivious for now. She smoothed her hand over the sheets and straightened her back, smiling warmly at Cora over her shoulder.<p>

"I don't know if I've thanked you for comin'," she muttered softly. "It's been a big 'elp, for all of us. I 'aven't seen my Dad smile so much since before we lost Alfie."

Cora's lips curled up in a smile and she reached to gently squeeze Sarah's hand, entwining their fingers casually like they held hands every single day. "I hope so. I'm so happy to be here, even if all I will be good for is _watching_ you work."

Sarah smiled. She'd managed so far to stifle her laughter at the thought of Cora doing anything resembling work in this place, let alone tending to the animals as Cora had suggested, but she didn't have to do a single thing, she was here as _her_ guest and Sarah would take care of her like she always had. She sat down on the bed, pulling Cora gently with her and squeezed her hand. Shuffling closer she linked their arms companionably; she still found out hard to believe Cora was here and spending the evening in her bed of all bloody places, but she couldn't imagine anywhere she would rather have her.

"I'm sure we'll find you something to do...You can 'elp me make armbands for the kids if you like?"

Cora grinned. Bless Sarah for involving her, despite her rather obvious uselessness. She really couldn't do very much but she was determined to _try_, if it even made things the slightest bit easier for her hostess. She tightened her arm around Sarah's and fought back the giddy laugh, but she blushed all the same at the contact and couldn't stop the fluttering of her heart. She loved her even more than she had the minute she had arrived her, but Mickey was a good man. He would make Sarah happy and that _had_ to be enough.

"I'd like that. You can teach me to be as good a seamstress as you and maybe then I could mend my _own_ underwear?"

Sarah grinned and pulled herself back across the bed until she was sat under the little window she used to stare out of as a child. She'd stopped worrying about propriety the minute Cora had offered her help milking a cow and there was no sense in being uncomfortable when she would be sleeping on the couch later tonight. She smiled at Cora to prompt her into moving next to her on the bed to share the rather incredible view; it wasn't quite Downton Abbey but the rolling hills were still enough to take your breath away come sunrise, and it wasn't half bad at sunset either.

"I 'ope not m'lady. I don't mind mendin' things for you, an' if you learn 'ow it'll mean you'll 'ave no need of me when it's time for me to come back to you."

That was if Cora _wanted _her back, and that was hardly likely with her offering to go over applications with her back at Downton like the stupid, love-struck cow she was.

Cora pulled the shawl from around her shoulders, smiling as she brought her legs up underneath her on the bed and crawled over the sit beside Sarah. She peered out of the little window and her breath caught briefly at the view before her. She had long since grown accustomed to the sight outside her _own_ bedroom window that it didn't hold the power it once did. But _this_ was beautiful, especially at night with the stars utterly consuming the sky and Sarah O'Brien beside her. She reached again for Sarah's hand – she had become rather desperate for the feel of the other woman's palm against hers – clasping it as she stared up in awe at the constellations above, before looking back to the other woman.

"There's nothing that would ever stop me from taking you back Sarah. I'd take you back to Downton in a heartbeat if I could."

Sarah felt her breath catch at the truth she sensed in Cora's voice. She had spent enough time around liars, far too much time, to know that Cora couldn't tell a lie to save her life and she smiled in the ever increasing darkness.

"When the time comes I'll be back like a shot, m'lady."

Cora's breath hitched and she blinked back at Sarah in soft surprise that soon melted into the deepest of affection. She reached for Sarah's other hand, gripping her fingers gently and shuffled even closer, drawn in by some force she was powerless to resist, until their thighs pressed together and there was little distance between their moonlit faces.

"And…Mickey?"

"I don't love him like I should…not like—"

Cora released a quiet breath. "Are you glad I came here, Sarah?"

Sarah swallowed the rising emotion in her throat. Cora was in her little bedroom looking more beautiful in the evening light than she had ever imagined she could; she was precisely where she wanted her and surely she wasn't imagining it, but did Cora want her too? Why had she _really_ come here…if not for her?

"There's no one else I'd rather 'ave in my room."

"And…in your bed, I hope."

Cora brought up their hands, pressing her lips in turn to each of her fingers. Her heart pounded with veritable fear, but she would not turn back now and Sarah, feeling bolder than she ever had before, leant forward carefully and pressed her lips gently against Cora's. Even if Cora pushed her away now and told her never to speak to her again, it would be worth it for this one exquisite moment with the woman she loved in her arms and her lips against hers, but that was hardly bloody likely considering Cora had just propositioned _her_!

Hadn't she?

She felt a momentary flicker of doubt before she felt Cora's lips move underneath hers and felt a slim hand against her hip, and knew that, for possibly the first time in fifteen years, they were on exactly the same page.

"Of course my bed...although," she wriggled at their limited space and tried not to bang her head against the headboard, "I can't 'elp but wish we 'ad _your _bed m'lady."

She wrapped her hands shamelessly around Cora's waist, sliding one over her back and the other lower; she leaned up again to kiss her, parting her lips deftly and moaning gently when her tongue met Cora's _just_ as she'd dreamed of for years, but better than she had ever imagined.

Cora mewled against Sarah's lips, drowning in the feel of the other woman against her and their tongues gliding together. She hadn't ever imagined a kiss could feel this exquisite, or even the simple feel of a hand against her back, but then nothing had felt this good, nothing and _no one_ and she pressed her hips against Sarah's, practically lightheaded as their breasts pushed together and sent sparks of pleasure through her. She pulled back for breath, staring down at Sarah with love practically radiating from every part of her, and smiled brilliantly.

"Oh we _will_, when I finally get you back to Downton."

With her arms around Cora, Sarah smiled. Having Cora here seemed like the best thing in the world and she was determined to make the most of it, even if they were in her miniscule bed; they would manage somehow! She kissed her again, moving her fingers to Cora's shirt and fiddling with the far too intricate buttons, but luckily for her she'd had plenty of practice.

"In that case _m'lady_, shall I undress you?" Her words were tentative at first, but what point was there in being tentative in a moment like this? She might never get this chance again! She moved her lips from Cora's lips to her ear and softly whispered as her fingers moved, "It gets awfully cold up 'ere on the farm, so we'll 'ave to curl up nice and close for warmth."

Cora shivered, unable to help the moan that escaped her lips at Sarah's enticing words and she surrendered to her hands completely and even attempted to give her a helping hand, tugging at her blouse with rather too _much_ force and a couple of buttons popped free. If she wasn't quite so desperate to make love to Sarah she'd feel rather guilty for ruining the pretty little shirt that had cost rather a lot actually, but she shrugged it off with a sheepish smile in Sarah's direction.

"If we can find the buttons, you can teach me how to mend that too."

She leaned in again to kiss Sarah, and handled _her_ buttons with a little more care. The feel of their breasts together was tantalizing enough and Cora wanted to _see_ them now.

Sarah forgot about the blouse immediately and tugged it over her shoulders, tossing it towards the dresser before moving her eager hands to Cora's and stripping that off too.

"We better get everythin' else off you before you ruin your entire wardrobe."

She tugged at the skirt and felt it begin to come down Cora's long legs, grinning at the sight and feeling happier than she had in years. She'd seen Cora's body before of course, but never like this, and how the bloody hell was she supposed to go back to Downton one day and undress her day and night with the memory of seeing her flushed and naked beneath her and _for_ her.

Cora bit her lip as the skirt came sliding off her legs, leaving her in not very much at all and almost completely exposed to Sarah's gaze. The other woman had seen her naked so many times before but never like this, and Sarah was still in far too many clothes! She shrugged the skirt fully off and pushed herself to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for the hem of Sarah's skirt, turning her attention to the buttons and eventually meeting Sarah's eyes after a moment or two of fruitless fiddling.

"I may need your help."

Sarah was more than happy to help and took hold of Cora's hands, shooing them away from her skirt and placing them instead on her breasts. It was rather selfish on her part, but she was desperate to feel the touch of Cora's fingers on her flesh and she had waited long enough for this moment that she felt little guilt. She reached down in the meantime to unbutton her skirt herself with practiced fingers and slipped it hurriedly down her legs and with far less grace than Cora had seemed to manage the process of being undressed.

She kissed her again, gently placing her legs either side of Cora and pulling their bodies closer. Reaching up to look Cora in the eye, she traced her fingers over Cora's bare shoulder before she gently pulled the first strap of the chemise down.

"You're _so _beautiful, love."

Cora let out a slow, shuddering breath. She was barely aware of her strap coming down, only the feel of the flesh beneath Sarah's chemise that pressed against her hands, and the need between her thighs that had suddenly spiraled from persistent to _desperate_. She had to know what Sarah looked like, what she felt like, what she tasted like, and she squeezed her breasts gently, reveling in the weight of them against her palms, and stroked her thumb over one hard peak pressing against the soft, cotton material.

"You're exquisite," she countered with a soft rueful smile as she curled her fingers around the hem of Sarah's chemise and dragged it up slowly, until she could press her lips against the soft, smooth flesh of her stomach. "I'm amazed we waited this long."

Sarah gasped at the contact and arched backwards, wrapping her arms around Cora and pulling her closer. "S'not for lack of wanting it, love," she breathed, running her fingers briefly through the soft, silky locks of the other woman's hair. Dear god, there was _nothing_ that could ever match the feel of Cora's lips against her trembling skin and she felt beyond privileged to be here with her, with the countess somehow divesting her of her corset with her barely even realizing; she had always been a fast learner though, clumsy or not. She pulled the other strap down Cora's shoulder, pulling the whole chemise down and licking her lips at the sight of her breasts.

"And I'm not beautiful like you..." She leaned into press a tantalizing kiss to her shoulder, her fingers sneaking lower before she smiled up at Cora.

Cora shook her head with a soft smile and leaned up to kiss Sarah's lips, bringing them close and their breasts flush together and groaning into Sarah's mouth at the sensation. She pulled them back down to the bed with the other woman on top of her and her fingers free to push at the drawers she wanted so desperately off Sarah.

Sarah groaned happily as their bodies pressed together on the bed, the force of gravity pushing her flush against Cora. This had to be a dream. She wasn't yet ready to believe that any of this pleasure was real, and that she finally had Cora in her arms seemed the most unlikely thing of all, but everything about her was so beautifully real, and fuck, she should have known Cora would be the one to get her naked first. Cora always did surprise her and the press of her flimsy, and oh so Cora-like, underwear against her thigh was unbearably good. If it hadn't been standing between her and something she wanted a great deal more she might have left them on! Grinning, she began to progress down Cora's body, kissing her breasts almost reverently before she took a nipple in her mouth and wrapped her fingers round the hem of Cora's underwear.

Cora gasped at the glorious contact, bringing up her arms up immediately to tangle her fingers in Sarah's hair as her back arched up off the bed. If she'd thought kissing Sarah exquisite - and oh god, it had been - then this was a complete revelation. It was something Robert hadn't even bothered to try yet Sarah had done it without even a second of hesitation and she adored her for it. She brought their lips crashing back together feverishly, wrapping her fingers back around Sarah's underwear to resume her efforts, moaning against her lips as she slid the material down Sarah's legs and felt her fingers brushing increasingly bare skin. Her head fell back as Sarah's lips trailed over her skin, and the words slipped out before she could stop them, but hadn't she come here just to say them?

"God, I love you."

The words hit Sarah like a ton of bricks and she ceased her explorations for a moment to look up at her former mistress' unspeakably beautiful face with unabashed wonder. How on earth could this absurdly wonderful woman _love_ her? Still, Madge O'Brien had taught her daughter never to look a gift horse in the mouth and a small smile appeared on her face as she spoke with utter conviction, "I love you more."

She grinned and took the nipple back between her lips, sucking gently as she tossed Cora's knickers well and truly away, wondering if she could get Cora to use the word she liked for them in the morning.

"And 'm goin' to spend all bloody night showin' you just that if you'll let me?"

Cora whimpered, pressing her hand quickly against her mouth to stifle the noise. She very nearly laughed out loud at the question, as if there was any other possible response than a desperate, resounding _yes_! In fact, she'd willingly strap herself to this bed forever if Sarah would keep touching her like this.

"Of _course_ it's alright, I don't think I could bear it if you didn't."

She kissed Sarah again, wrapping her legs up and around her hips and slid her hands up to cup her breasts, delighting in the gloriously soft flesh and lasting barely a minute before she pulled free of Sarah's lips and leaned up to take a nipple into her mouth.

Sarah wriggled on top of Cora, reveling in the exquisite feelings surging through her and wondering how her Dad would take to her and Cora never leaving the room again for the rest of their lives. He wasn't a stupid man – he had probably noticed _something_ between her and her former employer, but how he felt about it all was a mystery she would rather not unravel yet, not with Cora in her arms.

"I love you. I love you so much Cora."

She moved a hand down Cora's body as slyly as she could, pressing two fingers against her hot, wet sex and taking the Countess utterly by surprise, groaning at the feel of what her touch had done to Cora and the delicious sounds escaping her lips as she tangled her legs through Cora's and used one of them to move Cora's thighs apart.

Cora all but shrieked as Sarah's fingers pressed precisely where she needed them and arched shamelessly against the digits, spreading her legs wider. There was nothing she wouldn't do for Sarah now, nothing she wouldn't give, and that included giving _herself_, mind, body and soul and most importantly her heart. She would be summoned back to Downton soon, no doubt, but her heart would remain right here.

Sarah nearly cried out there and then at Cora's response to her. She loved her so much, had never loved another person quite like this before and had certainly never wanted to entirely sacrifice her own bloody pleasure for the sake of another. But Cora was the only thing that mattered right now and she lovingly kissed her lips, shushing her cries and teasing her fingers around where Cora needed them most.

"I love you darlin'," she whispered again before pressing one, then two, fingers inside her.

Cora could do little more than whimper at the declaration, still desperately trying to keep the scream lingering in her throat to a series of muted moans. She rocked against Sarah's fingers, her head falling back against the pillow with the oncoming blaze between her thighs that swelled more and more with every passing second and every thrust of Sarah's fingers inside her. She was embarrassingly close, even more so with Sarah's declaration of love that made her heart ache almost as much as her sex and as Sarah danced a third finger around her sex and slipped her tongue into her mouth, she felt herself finally shatter.

Somewhere in the middle of the blissful haze, she felt Sarah's hand stroking soothingly through her hair and sagged back against the bed, pulling the other woman with her with a breathless, blissful sigh. I love you _so_ much darling. You have no idea how much."

Sarah rested her head on Cora's shoulder, placing lazy kisses over the skin there and feeling herself glowing with happiness as much as Cora was. Her brother's death had been another blow in a long series of terrible events and now Cora seemed to be the balm for her soul and if it made her feel this wonderful to make Cora scream than she was damned well going to do it again, and tonight assuming they didn't fall asleep. She tangled her legs with Cora's and ran a hand along her stomach. "I think you're more beautiful than anything else in the whole world...if _you_ love _me_..." She leant up to kiss Cora's nose before trailing her lips down her cheek, across her collar and settling back on her shoulder. "Then I _must_ 'ave been blessed all along."

"I _do_ love you," Cora whispered, quickly recovering as another wave of love assaulted her and she pushed herself up on her elbows to steal a soft, lingering kiss from Sarah's lips. She could stay here all day, curled up in Sarah's arms, but there was the small matter of reciprocation and _that _she had been looking forward to since the minute their lips had first touched. She grinned, kissing Sarah again and pressed her knee between her thighs to slowly, purposefully, prize her legs apart. Trailing her fingers down her stomach, she stroked her fingers through Sarah's silky folds and smirked softly at the wetness she found there.

"And you _do _want me, don't you?

"God yes!" Sarah groaned, and wriggled against the fingers wantonly. She would never have expected Cora to be quite this bold, even now after making her explode, but she'd underestimated her lady again. She wrapped her legs tighter around Cora's waist, pulling her in closer towards her throbbing sex and reached up to cup Cora's breast, dragging her soft thumb over a nipple.

"I want you more than anythin' love, I always 'ave."

Cora shuddered as Sarah's thumb dragged over her skin and rewarded the all too brief touch with a firm, lingering stroke. There was no point trying to resist the temptation of the magnificent breasts beneath her and Cora leaned to take a nipple between her lips, dragging her tongue across it in torturous little flicks. Sarah's hips wiggled against her fingers encouragingly and in protest at the stilling of her touch, but there was no reason she couldn't do both, and Cora teased her for moment longer before plunging her fingers deep inside her sex.

"Is this what you wanted, darling?"

"Oh _fuck _yes!"

Sarah pushed back against the fingers immediately, allowing her legs to fall further apart for Cora's benefit and letting her curl her fingers and delve as deep as she pleased. For a bloody beginner – assuming she hadn't been in bed with Lady Rosamund all these years, and Sarah bloody hoped not – she was certainly skilled; maybe _this_was her calling, and not milking cows? Her fingers hit the spot deep inside her that Mickey, as attentive as he was, had not been able to find in all their spread-out years together and she cried out, reaching her hands up to pull Cora down for a long kiss, muffling her moans around Cora's tongue. The spasms shot through her and she felt the lust building in every inch of her body, and fucking hell she didn't think she could hold on for much longer.

"Cora? _Please_..."

Cora smiled indulgently at Sarah's half-garbled request and brought her free hand up to cup one glorious breast. It was impossible to deny Sarah anything now, especially _this _and she leaned in to kiss her again as she pushed her fingers as gloriously deep as she was able. Sarah's eager groans were _more_ than sufficient enough a reward. Building up a rhythm, Cora plunged her fingers in and out until Sarah was half-way to being a shuddering mess and dragged her thumb higher, grazing it over Sarah's throbbing little nub and delighting in the jerk of her hips. Rosamund had delighted in describing _her_ Sapphic encounter in great detail, much to Cora's eternal embarrassment at the time but she was rather grateful now, and there was one specific trick she was rather desperate to try; she was hungry to worship Sarah with her tongue but more than willing to wait. There would be more after this, after all, and she would rather enjoy taking Sarah by surprise.

"Just enjoy this darling and," she leaned in, brushing her lips teasingly against Sarah's, "come for me."

Sarah felt herself warm at Cora's words, flushing from head to toe at the thought of being able to lie back and be thoroughly ravished by the women she loved; at Cora's last instruction her body responded all too eagerly, peaking as ordered, and she cried out thoughtlessly with the force of her pleasure. How could she do anything _but_ scream with Cora bloody Crawley's fingers inside her and her lips on her skin? Her sex clenched around long fingers, thrashing against Cora's touch like her very life depended on it until she fell forward onto Cora's shoulder and for a long moment there was nothing but blissful oblivion and the knowledge that she was loved by the only woman who would ever have her heart.

* * *

><p>If Sarah had at all doubted that last night had happened, the reality was soon confirmed by the sight of Cora Crawley, the Countess of Grantham, naked and glorious with her own bloody bed sheets bunched around her hips and barely covering the last of her modesty, staring out of her bedroom window at the view that had greeted her own eyes every single morning up until the age of thirteen. It was still dark outside, and there was only the slightest hint of morning light on the horizon, but enough to illuminate the landscape in a dusky glow that had on more than one occasion caused her breath to catch in her throat. But this time it wasn't the landscape that took her breath away.<p>

She smiled, sliding her hand over the softness of Cora's bare back and pressed her lips to her naked hip, delighting in the soft gasp that spilled from the other woman's lips.

"S'beautiful, isn't it?"

Cora's eyes sparkled in the twilight as she turned her gaze from the window to Sarah, a _much_ more glorious sight, no matter how beautiful the view from the tiny window. She stroked her fingers through the other woman's hair, delighting in the feel of the soft locks against her skin. It was shorter than it had been before, not much longer than shoulder length now and cut for practically no doubt, and Cora liked it better. Her silly, but rather charming, fringe had gone too, and Sarah looked all the softer for it.

"It's breath-taking. I didn't realise."

She leaned down, finding it utterly impossible to resist, and brushed her lips against the other woman's. Sarah quickly responded, much to her delight, and parted her lips under the pressure of hers. She shivered at the feel of Sarah's fingers drifting over her stomach, and left the window behind. The view would still be there in the morning, but right now she wanted nothing but Sarah's lips and skin against hers.

"When do you have to go back to Downton?"

The thought filled Sarah with misery but she was determined not to regret a second of her time with Cora thinking about her upcoming absence when she had her here and now, and naked in her bed. Robert Crawley might get his wife back sooner or later, but she would never be his again now; as hard as she tried, it was impossible for Sarah not to feel smug at that.

"The day after tomorrow."

Sarah nodded and tried to ignore the sudden tightness of her heart. The day after tomorrow was far too bloody soon, but she didn't want to think about Cora leaving yet; they could face that later, just like she would have to face Mickey.

Bloody hell, Mickey.

It was the second time he'd been tossed over for Cora, but she couldn't bring herself to regret either choice, and especially not this one. She couldn't imagine it would be easy for him to let her go again but they'd both be living a lie otherwise, and Sarah couldn't bring herself to let him love _her_ whilst her heart, mind and bloody soul belonged to the woman currently in her arms. It wasn't fair on any of them, and for once in her sodding life she was going to do something for her_ own _happiness.

"I don't suppose you could stay 'ere forever?" she smirked.

Cora's lips curled up in a smile as she slid her leg over Sarah's, huddling further under the covers and closer to the other woman. It was cold outside – she could feel it against the glass of the window – but it was perfectly warm in here, pressed against the heat of Sarah's body. She mewled quietly at the exquisite feel of breasts against hers and felt a brand new surge of heat between her legs.

"I wish I could. There is nothing I would like more," she whispered, nudging her nose against Sarah's and meeting her lips in an indulgent kiss. It was more languid than earlier, slow and soft and full of love, but by no means lacking in passion and Sarah began to feel herself stir in response.

"You're goin' to be the death of me if you keep kissin' me like that."

Cora smirked softly, moving to slowly straddle Sarah's hips, and Sarah shivered at the look in her eyes. "Do you want me to stop, darling?"

Sarah gasped in pleasure at the friction between their bodies, and managed to utter one word before she found herself utterly lost beneath Cora's skilled fingers.

"Never."


	11. Chapter 11

The day after tomorrow had come far too quickly, and putting Cora in a car and saying goodbye had been even harder than she had imagined it would be, but not quite as bad as before. This time she could at least content herself with the knowledge that Cora loved her – Cora Crawley loved _her_ and the memory of their entangled bodies was proof enough of that!

There had been a healthy supply of guilt though. Satah never been one for holding her punches and avoiding things, but how the bloody hell was she supposed to tell Mickey she had given her heart to somebody else? Cora had been gone for six hours now and she still hadn't told him, and she'd had opportunity enough. They had spent the whole day alone together on the field in a frankly uncomfortable silence that she was surely the cause of. But what difference would waiting until Mickey was in a good mood, or any of the other nonsense that had been flying around in her head for the last few hours as she'd tried to get up the nerve to blurt it out, make. She would break his heart regardless.

_Bloody hell, just do it!_

"Mickey—"

"You're in love with 'er, aren't you?" Mickey interrupted bluntly.

Sarah blinked in surprise. Had she really been that bloody obvious? Not that that mattered right now; she could see the pain in Mickey's eyes and it was a knife to her own heart. She couldn't even begin to imagine how _he_ felt. Cora loved her, she didn't have to worry about heartbreak and rejection anymore, but here she was tossing Mickey overboard at the first available opportunity just like before. He must think her a bloody monster.

"I never meant for it to 'appen."

Mickey laughed, short and sharp, but with a smile that tempered the bitterness. He couldn't even be angry when he tried to be, not with Sarah, as much as it irritated him. "Of course you didn't mean to, you daft cow. Nobody falls in love with one of 'er kind on purpose. It rarely ends 'appily."

Sarah let out a breath and looked to her hands. Maybe if he was angrier she wouldn't feel like such a bloody cow, but he was being so _nice_ and she was the last person to deserve that. "The last thing I want is to 'urt you, Mickey. We 'ad fun together, we always 'ave fun together."

Mickey's lips curled up in a sad smile. Fun. It wasn't quite eternal love, was it? "But you don't love me."

It was stated so simply, so _coldly _that Sarah's kneejerk reaction was to protest, but it was the truth, wasn't it? She didn't love Mickey, she loved Cora and there was no getting around it. And lord knows she wouldn't apologise for loving Cora - she'd be daft in the head to ever regret what had happened between them - but Mickey was a good, kind man and he deserved better. Better than her.

"No. Not like 'er, an' I'm sorry for that."

Mickey smiled sadly and nodded in understanding. "I know. I should've known - I _did _know. I 'eard the way you spoke about 'er, I saw the light in your eyes. An' the way the two of you were together, how right it seemed...I suppose I did my best to ignore the bleedin' obvious."

"You wouldn't be the first to do that."

Mickey's lips curled up in a vague smirk. "Yeah? Took you both long enough."

"Sixteen years," Sarah snorted softly. She had loved Cora for so long it was a miracle it hadn't driven her mad by now. "But I couldn't exactly walk up to 'er and tell her I loved 'er, could I?"

"I suppose not," Mickey conceded. His shoulders sagged in defeat, but there was a sense of relief too; at least now he knew. But he was worried about Sarah all the same; Cora might love her, but it wouldn't be an easy road. "I don't suppose it'll ever be easy for you."

Mickey leaned in to gently press his lips to her cheek. It took all he had not to linger, but he didn't belong here anymore.

"Take care, Sarah O'Brien."

Sarah sucked in a breath. It was the second goodbye she'd said that day, but this one was different. Mickey wasn't coming back. "An' you two, Mickey Briggs. Go an' set up that 'otel." She smiled tremulously. "You've never needed me."

Mickey supposed he'd believe that too eventually, but he didn't see how when his body felt like lead when he tried to turn his back to her and walk away for the final time. And more than anything, he wished he could believe that Sarah would be happy but as always she had chosen the hardest bloody path.

This time he couldn't help her.

* * *

><p>"You were awfully quiet at dinner, darling," Cora murmured softly as she and Edith sat together in the drawing room. Dinner had been the usual family affair and Edith usually had <em>something<em> to say, but she hadn't said a word tonight and it had worried her. She was amazed she had noticed actually. Her thoughts had been consumed by Sarah O'Brien of late

"I was? I'm afraid I didn't notice. Haven't I always been quiet?"

Cora was ashamed to realise that she didn't really know. How much did she really know about her middle daughter?

"I would have liked to have heard from you."

"I don't have very much to say Mama. Mary has Sir Richard, and the wedding plans and Sybil…Sybil has her nursing but what about me?"

"_You_ have been an incredible help darling. Even the General said so."

"I'm a librarian Mama, a glorified librarian. Sybil is _doing_ something with her life, she's making a real difference, and I spend my days apologizing to the poor men because Granny won't have American novels in the house!"

Cora rolled her eyes briefly. _Somebody_ needed to apologise for that at least.

"Edith," she began and reached for her daughter's hands. Edith seemed startled by the contact and Cora felt another pang of guilt, because she couldn't remember the last time she had held Edith's hands. "What you do is so much more than it seems on the surface. Some of these men have lost everything, and you give them _something_. It might only be a novel or a minute or two of conversation, but for that minute or two they feel whole again."

Edith was silent for a long moment, before she sucked in a quiet breath. "I've never thought about it that way." Her lips curled up in a sad smile as she looked to their clasped hands. "And what about me, Mama? When will _I_ feel whole again?"

Cora breathed in quietly. How had she missed this? Her middle daughter wasn't sad, she was downright _miserable_ and perhaps she had been for some time. She had loved Sir Anthony once but that had come to nothing, and if her misery stretched back that far then Cora didn't deserve the affection of this beautiful girl.

"You will," she assured her with all the confidence she could muster, and reached up to cup Edith's cheek. "We all will one day."

An idea suddenly occurred to her. It was madness really, brought on in a fit of desperation, but a good idea nonetheless and she pushed aside her own selfish motives entirely. Well, almost entirely.

"You enjoyed your time on the Drake's farm, didn't you?"

Edith's eyes flashed momentarily in sadness and she ducked her head to avoid her mother's eyes. She had tried to forget that particular incident, but the sting still lingered. "More than I've enjoyed myself in some time, yes."

"Then you and I are going to Lancashire."

"Lancashire?" Edith's brow creased. Granny would chalk it down to her being American, but she wondered whether Mama might have simply been mad all along. "Why on earth would be go _there_?"

"Because that's where O'Brien is," Cora smiled.

"O'Brien?" Edith frowned in confusion. "What on earth does your former maid have to do with the Drake's?"

"We're visiting her _farm_ darling," she clarified and smiled softly at her daughter. "As I understand it, they're rather lacking in staff." Her eyes glittered with mirth suddenly. "And I'm sure O'Brien said something about a tractor."

"You mean…they'd let me work for them?" Edith's eyes positively lit up.

"I don't imagine they'll pay you," Cora smirked softly. "But I'm positive they'll put you to good use. They need all the skilled hands they can get."

Edith let out a breath, blinking back tears. "Well…if they need help, I suppose I can oblige." She quickly bit back her smile, and did her best to look nonchalant; here was no point being silly and getting emotional over getting to drive a tractor, but she utterly failed. "I will expect to be compensated though."

"How about a hot glass of cider? O'Brien's father makes rather spectacular hot cider." She leaned in to press a soft kiss to Edith's forehead. "I'd like nothing more than for you to come with me, darling."

Just because she had failed Edith in the past didn't mean she couldn't start being a good mother to her now.

* * *

><p>"What've you got there, Dad?" Sarah called as she carried a bag full of chopped wood into the house. He had a piece of paper in his hands, crisp and white and with an emblem at the top and—<p>

"Dad?" she repeated, this time more insistently and with worry creasing her brow. It was a telegram from the war office – it looked practically bloody identical to the one they'd got for Alfie, and who was it this time? George? Jimmy? Johnny? Which of them had they lost _this_ time? By all accounts the war was coming to an end and it would be just their luck to lose someone now when it was all nearly over.

"It's Jimmy," Mel muttered, his voice cracking with emotion and Sarah let out a pained breath.

Her father looked up at her with tears glimmering in his eyes – it was so rare any of them ever saw him cry – and he suddenly smiled.

"'e's comin''ome. Jimmy's comin' 'ome."

And he did. They stuck him on a train and sent him home and a week or two later – it seemed like a _year_ they waited for him – James O'Brien was there on their doorstep with both legs and both arms and standing tall. They'd said so bloody little in the letter that Sarah had feared the worst; they didn't just send soldiers home for nothing. But there was nothing, nothing but one side of his face marred by burns that hadn't taken away one bit of his beauty, not to her.

They got him bathed and got him washed, and put him to bed, and the poor bastard slept for nearly two days. James didn't cry in his sleep quite as much as Alfie had done, but he cried all the same. The nightmares plagued him, and Sarah couldn't even imagine the things he saw in his poor, exhausted mind every night as he slept. She'd take them away if she could though and bear it all for him, but the best she could do was sleep in a chair by the side of his bed and mop his brow as he tossed and turned.

"Sarah?"

Sarah sat up straight with a start at the sound of her brother's strained voice. "S'me Jimmy. I'm right 'ere."

James let out a quiet breath, and closed his eyes again as his hand searched desperately for hers. She gave it to him, gripping his fingers tight and lifted his hand to her lips.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, and neither are you."

She saw his lips drift up in a ghost of a smile, a shadow of his former full-toothed grin, and the sight made her heart ache.

"Good. Food's not as good there anyway. There's no cider either."

Sarah laughed hoarsely, stroking her thumb over his knuckles. "There's plenty 'ere, lad. Dad's been keepin' it warm for you all."

"Not Alfie though," James whispered sadly, and Sarah shook her head regretfully. He had heard then. They'd written to all of her brothers, but there was no way to be sure they'd received the news, and she had dreaded telling someone else she loved about their little Alfie's death.

"No, not Alfie. But you're 'ere, an' that's what 'e would've wanted."

"'e was probably half-mad with terror when 'e went," he whispered. There was a faraway look in his eyes that scared Sarah and she squeezed his hand as tight as she dared. She didn't have a bloody clue what to say; there was nothing that would make _her_ heart hurt any less and she hadn't been off in France. Her life had never been in danger, and she hadn't survived over Alfie.

She swallowed and kissed his hand again. "It wasn't your fault 'e died Jimmy. So many men died, an' Alfie was one of 'em."

"Doesn't make it any easier."

"No," Sarah conceded at a whisper. "But it's just the way it is. All we can do now is pray for the others."

Jimmy nodded absently. He brought his hand up to his face after a moment, stroking his fingers over the bumps and burns. His lips curled up in a tiny smile. "An' now I 'ave no chance of findin' a girl."

Sarah scoffed softly. "Don't be so bloody stupid."

"I'm not. No girl's goin' to date _this_ Sass."

"Any girl that doesn't want to marry you is a bloody fool," Sarah muttered hoarsely, tears pricking precariously at her eyes. Fool they might be, but then most girls _were_ stupid, and James deserved so much more, but would he ever get it now?

"Maybe…but it doesn't change a thing."

Sarah let out a breath and reached to cup her brother's cheek, the one marred by burns and forced his traumatized eyes to meet her own.

"You're still the most bloody handsome lad in the world, Jimmy, an' I'll swing for you if you say otherwise again."

James was silent for a moment before he let out a quiet laugh, and for a minute it was as if all was right in the world again. "Shouldn't you be sayin' that about Mickey? I 'eard he's wormed 'is way into the family again."

It was Sarah's turn to smile sadly, but she masked it the best she could. The last thing Jimmy needed was _her_ misery too. "Yeah, but 'e's gone now."

"Gone? Already? Bloody 'ell Sarah, what did you do?"

Sarah arched her eyebrow briefly at his assumption, but he was right, wasn't he? "I didn't love him."

"You didn't love 'im but you agreed to marry 'im?"

Sarah sighed. He'd fought in a bloody war, but he was still so naïve. "I thought I could love 'im enough, but I couldn't."

James couldn't pretend to understand and his eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. "Is there somebody else? Another man?" He screwed up his nose at the thought of his sister _dating_ – she was over forty years old, but the thought of Sarah and men still made him shudder.

Sarah smirked. "No, not another man. We just agreed to part, amicably."

"Amicably?" James arched his brow. "Look who's swallowed a bloody dictionary!"

Sarah grinned. There was a war on, George and John were still off in the middle of nowhere, the woman she loved was miles away and with _him_, but she had her little brother back and—

"Sarah!" Mel bellowed up the stairs, and James sniggered as Sarah rolled her eyes.

"What is it, dad?"

She'd have his head for interrupting when James was finally beginning to come out of his shell, but instead she wanted to _kiss_ him when she heard what he had to say.

"Your Countess 'as come to say 'ello! Come down an' don't keep 'er waiting!"

* * *

><p>"I haven't seen her this happy in so long," Cora murmured as they strolled along through the field. Their bodies lingered close together, their arms brushing as they walked, and Cora had to fight the urge to take the other woman's hand. There were plenty people that could see them – Mr. O'Brien, Julie, her own daughter – and hand holding might not necessarily be an indication of a secret scandalous love affair, but it might look somewhat suspicious.<p>

But it was a glorious day, all sunshine and she couldn't resist, and for once she threw caution to the wind and threaded their fingers together.

"Edith?" Sarah smiled. She had been more than a little surprised to see Cora had brought her daughter with her, but not unhappy. She had been glad to see Edith at Downton and she was glad to see her now, and she had a sneaking suspicion that James had been glad to see her too. Apparently the O'Brien's were suckers for the Crawley women, and Sarah had always thought Edith the prettiest of the sisters.

Cora nodded. "She has a purpose, she has a job. All she's every really wanted is to fit, and she fits here. She's more at home here than she's ever been anywhere else before."

"She can stay as long as she likes," Sarah murmured softly, stopping them as they turned a corner and were finally out of sight. "It's as much 'er 'ome as it is yours, y'know."

Cora drew in a quiet breath and gave the other woman an adoring smile with the slightest hint of sadness. "I know. But it can't be home Sarah, you know that."

"I know." Sarah knew it all too bloody well, but having Cora's heart was enough. She smiled impishly, and leaned in closer. "Doesn't stop me from 'oping though, love."

Cora let out a breath as Sarah's lips pressed against hers. She pulled back, flushing as she peered around to make sure no one was watching but Sarah smirked and reached to cup her cheek, pulling her in for another deep kiss.

"No one's lookin' love. Where in the middle of nowhere. There's just you an' me..." She smirked softly as she glanced over Cora's shoulder. "An' this tree."

Cora's brow creased in confusion. "What on earth does the tree have to do with anything?"

"It might just come in 'andy," Sarah smirked, drawing Cora closer with her hand on her hip.

"What for?"

Sarah rolled her eyes at Cora's obliviousness, but that could be easily fixed. "For this, darlin'," Sarah muttered before she pressed her mouth to Cora's and parted her lips as she gently pushed the other woman back against the solid bark of the tree. She pressed her knee between her thighs, nudging open her legs and thrust her knee up. She could already feel Cora's heat between her thighs and smirked against her mouth, sliding one hand over her lover's stomach and over her leg until she could curl her fingers around the hem of her dress - the most practical dress she'd ever worn, thank god - and dragged the material up.

Cora moaned against her lips, whimpering at the feel of the rough bark behind her back and the soft mouth against hers, spreading her legs wantonly to welcome the knee against her sex. It really was terribly inappropriate but she welcomed the pleasure, wrapping her arms tight around her neck and pulling her close. Robert would never have been this bold, he would never have been this eager to love her that he would thrust her back against a _tree_ just to get his hands on her. And Sarah was so terribly good at this, at loving her _so_ thoroughly that she wouldn't be able to refuse her if she tried. She probably wouldn't stop grinding herself against Sarah's knee even if Robert himself came charging onto Sarah's farm. She wouldn't stop loving Sarah if he _ordered_ her to.

"I hope you're not expecting to have me against the floor darling. I might be wearing one of your dresses, but I have to draw the line somewhere-" her breath hitched as Sarah's knee pressed harder against her, and her head fell back against the tree with a thud.

"You were sayin' love?" Sarah smirked, trailing her lips over the softness of Cora's neck, sliding her fingers over the front of the other woman's drawers and flicked her tongue out against her flesh.

"Anyway, 'm not goin' to have you on the _floor_," she breathed against Cora's ear, and felt the shiver deep in her body with a smirk that spoke of things to come. "You can stand up for what I 'ave planned."


	12. Chapter 12

The air was stifling. Cora had asked Joan to loosen her corset and had selected the airiest of her gowns, but it made little difference. Her head still swam and her skin still burned, but she had to carry on. Joan had offered to call Doctor Clarkson, but Cora had immediately declined. She hadn't seen Doctor Clarkson since the accident and the thought of being examined filled her with unspeakable dread and made her even more nauseous than she already felt. She hadn't missed a single dinner since the accident either and only because she had been practically comatose, and she wouldn't start now, even if she _did_ feel more ill than she could remember feeling in her entire life.

She couldn't help but long for Sarah now. Cora couldn't imagine anything more conductive to her recovery than the other woman's arms around her and her lips against her temple as she cradled her close, and her heart ached at the thought of the distance between them, and with how much she missed Edith too. But Cora couldn't bring herself to separate Edith from the farm, not when she was so terribly happy there, and it warmed her heart to think of her daughter in the company of the woman she loved. At least a part of her was there, even if she couldn't be there herself.

"Are you sure you'd rather not have a tray, my lady?"

Cora smiled and patted Joan's arm gratefully. She might not be Sarah O'Brien but she'd grown fond of the woman. She'd lost her husband in the Boer War, and the man she loved soon after though Cora hadn't yet been brave enough to ask _how_. It was none of her business really, but the way Joan spoke about John Smith made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

"I'm fine Joan, thank you."

Joan looked sceptical and Cora fought back a laugh. She might be her replacement, but Sarah would like this one; she didn't believe a word her mistress said. She sighed affectionately. "I promise, you can put me to bed after dinner. I'll even go quietly."

Joan's lips twitched upwards. She would believe that when she saw it.

"If you say so my lady. Just ring the bell when you're ready to come back up."

She gave Cora small curtsey but she waved her away; she hadn't bothered with formality with Joan because she hadn't wanted to encourage a routine. Sarah would be back where she belonged eventually and she would find Joan a new place, and most likely with her sister-in-law in London. By all accounts Andrew Lang was settled in Eaton Square and doing well, and Cora couldn't think of a more generous employer for Joan. Rosamund had been the one to recommend her after all; she would be more than happy to take her on herself!

On the stairs she was met with precisely the same concern from Mrs. Hughes, but she shook her head and soldiered on. Lavinia and Matthew were here and there was their wedding to discuss, and with Mary and Sir Richard here too Cora would _need _to be at dinner to manage the tension at the table.

As expected, dinner was a veritable nightmare and five minutes in, the conversation became little more than a dull murmur in the background. She could feel her head spinning more and more by the second, and her skin seared to the touch. She was glad of the distraction of the wedding. The others were far too occupied by the conversation to notice her increasing dizziness, and she had never liked making a fuss. She liked it much more when everybody was getting along and that was almost impossible with Cousin Isobel and her mother-in-law sitting at the same table that she preferred to suffer in silence to preserve the peace for as long as she could. Robert was being awfully quiet though, and she looked up curiously and seemingly precisely at the correct moment to see her husband and his housemaid exchange a look across the table.

It was so charged with emotion she felt suddenly sick, and she feel something of a hypocrite given her relationship with Sarah O'Brien, but to look at her like _that_ right in front of her eyes was positively insulting, and worst of all he had probably forgotten she was in the room at all. Tears pricked at her eyes and she felt a rush of sadness that did nothing for her aching body. Her chest felt like it was being flattened at the same time as her heart, and she couldn't stay here anymore. She had to get out of this room and into be, but she wished, more than anything, that she'd decided to stay in Lancashire after all with her daughter and the woman she loved.

"I hope you'll forgive me," she interrupted Richard Carlisle, something about one of his papers, and smiled apologetically. "But I simply have to lie down."

Violet narrowed her eyes and frowned across the table, but Cora was relieved to see concern in her eyes and not irritation. "Are you quite well my dear?" she asked with considerably more softness than Cora was used to. "You're very pale."

Cora smiled tightly and nodded her head, but even that simple action made her feel positively ghastly. She pushed herself up from the table with obvious difficulty, and smiled gratefully as she felt Anna move instantly to her side. Should she keel over, and she rather felt like she might, at least she would have something to catch her.

"I'll be fine if I can just lie down." She caught Robert's eyes briefly across the table, and thankfully he had managed to drag his gaze from Jane. He graced her with a supportive smile and nodded his permission for her to leave, and Cora was glad to see he still cared.

She apologised again before allowing Anna to help her to the stairs, and sent the young woman away to fetch Joan who would no doubt phone for Doctor Clarkson, and Cora would let her. Whatever was wrong with her, she hoped it would pass in the next day or two.

She didn't want to worry Sarah.

* * *

><p>The village was busier these days as more and more of Scouthead's sons and husbands returned from France, and for once Sarah was glad to hear someone shouting her old nickname at her on every corner. She'd rather hear it from George and John but they'd heard nothing of their coming home yet, and it was getting harder and harder to prop Julie up. The poor cow had done her best to stay positive but she could only imagine the pain she must feel if she imagined Cora in a soldier's uniform at the front, and lord knew that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.<p>

She sighed as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, only to freeze as a familiar face practically stumbled into her path. She had expected him to be gone from the village by now, but then that wasn't very fair of her. He had as much right to be in Scouthead as her, and Sarah couldn't help but be glad to see him, despite the circumstances of their parting.

"Mickey?"

His lips curled up in a tight smile as he caught sight of her and stopped. "I thought you'd be long gone back to Downton by now."

He couldn't help but hope she had changed her mind, but he didn't think so; besides, he didn't want to make a life with a woman who so clearly loved somebody else. It wouldn't be fair to either of them, least of all _him_, and it was about bloody time he found himself someone who'd love him the way Sarah loved her lady.

"Not until the boys're back," Sarah shrugged, doing her best not to be so bloody awkward, but it wasn't everyday she saw the man whose heart she had broken twice for the same woman. She wouldn't – _couldn't_ – bring herself to regret the decision though with the memory of Cora's lips burnt into her skin.

"Have you heard from any of 'em?" Mickey asked.

He might not be marrying Sarah – that he knew for certain this time – but the O'Brien boys were as good as brothers to him and he couldn't help but worry.

"Every so often. I know the war's nearly over but it doesn't mean they're safe. Cora's doin' all she can to keep 'em safe out there but—" Sarah looked up, cutting herself off and cursing herself immediately at the sight of the pained smile on his face. "Mickey, I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to apologise to me," Mickey interrupted quickly and he _meant_ it. Sarah had hardly fallen in love with a married Countess on purpose and she could be a sarcastic cow at times but she wouldn't hurt a fly if she could help it, and never him. She might have chosen the Countess in the end but he'd never doubted she loved him. And she'd probably saved his life too.

"Don't you have 'er daughter stayin' with you?" he quickly changed the subject.

"Lady Edith?" Sarah smirked. She felt considerably more comfortable on safer ground and felt herself begin to slowly relax. "She's a bit more 'andy than 'er mother, that's for sure."

"You mean she can actually peel a potato?" Mickey teased, and was relieved to hear Sarah laugh and felt the tension begin to lift.

"Just about," she smiled "She's much 'appier drivin' the tractor though. We can't get 'er off it some days."

"And don't tell me," Mickey smiled, "Jimmy's smitten?"

Sarah rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She really should have expected that one. Edith was every bit as lovely as her mother and James had fallen fast, and she had the sneaking suspicion Cora's daughter had done the same. She couldn't help but wonder how Cora would feel about it, but hoped she'd be happy. James deserved to be loved by a good woman, and Edith was as good as they came. "We O'Brien's don't 'alf pick the complicated ones."

Mickey smiled with a hint of sadness. "Well why not, if they're the _right_ ones?"

Sarah was silent for a moment as she held Mickey's eyes. "She _is_ the right one for me Mickey. You're a stupid bastard for bein' so forgivin' – I 'ad no right to let you think we'd live 'appily ever after – but I _know_ she's the right one. Not in the eyes of the law maybe, but since when did we give a toss about that?"

Mickey shrugged. "S'not that I'm not disappointed but," he smirked slightly – he knew how Sarah felt about all the romantic bollocks other women treasured, "who am I to stand in the way of true love?"

Sarah scoffed and reached out to smack his arm. Stupid beggar had to be smug, didn't he? "I'll 'ave none of that, thank you very much."

Mickey sniggered as they made their way into the post office but Sarah couldn't help but smirk over at the counter, and nudged the man's arm.

"She 'as a crush on you, y'know. I bet _she'd_ marry you." She nodded to the post girl, a pretty dark-haired thing about the same age as Edith, who blushed and ducked her head at the attention.

"You're kiddin', aren't you?" Mickey arched his brow. "This is real life y'know and real life doesn't sort itself out into tidy little packages."

"Maybe not," Sarah muttered, looking up at him with a sympathetic smile. "But I think we both deserve an 'appy endin', don't you?"

"Lucky for you," Mickey muttered with a vague smile as he nudged her in the direction of the counter. He saw Rita's eyes flicker to his ring finger, and perhaps Sarah wasn't so mad after all? Maybe they could both have a happy ending? "You've already got yours."

Sarah felt like a daft soppy cow, but smiled all the same and thought of Cora, back at Downton now but by no means out of her thoughts. She barely thought of anything _but_ Cora and those three whispered words before the other woman had screamed out her name.

She reached out to take the telegram from Rita, flashing a vague smile before turning her attention to the little envelope and ripping it open. It bore none of the usual signs of it being a telegram from the war office so the likelihood of it being bad news was low. And for the first time since Alfie died she was happy; she didn't need any bad news today.

She smirked slightly as she looked up to see Rita chatting nervously to Mickey, and for all his apparent heartbreak at their parting it didn't seem to stop the man from flashing his pearly bloody whites and leaning over the counter to have a good and proper natter. She was busy anyway; the telegram was from Yorkshire, from _Downton_, and it could only be from—

Sarah's heart froze in her ribcage. She read Thomas' words once, twice, over and bloody over until they finally sank in and fear tightened her chest. She might have fallen if Mickey hadn't suddenly been by her side with his hand gripping her arm and keeping her upright.

"Sarah?" Mickey pressed, doing his best to meet her eyes. She'd gone so pale all of a sudden, and the hand holding the telegram shook so much he had to take it in his own to steady it. "_Sarah_?"

"It's Cora. She's sick."

"How sick?"

"S'the Spanish Flu."

Jesus Christ. They'd heard enough about Spanish Flu to know the Countess had to be in a bad way and Mickey nodded, gulping as he gave her hand a squeeze and slid his arm around her, shielding her from the nosy bastards surrounding them. She might not be his fiancée anymore but he refused to let her grief become other people's soddin' entertainment.

"I'll get you back to the farm. You an' Lady Edith can get in a car an' go right there." He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, but he knew how _he'd_ feel if it was Sarah. Mickey doubted there was much she could do for Cora now, but he'd have to be dragged from Sarah's bedside kicking and screaming and lord knew Sarah was even more stubborn than him.

"She'll be okay, Sarah."

* * *

><p>It took her a good few hours to convince Edith to go and get some rest. There was nothing she could do anyway, nothing any of them could do but wait, and that was killing Sarah inside. She did her best – mopped her brow and neck and kept her as comfortable as she possibly could but the rest was up to fate; it didn't seem fair when Sarah would carve out her own bloody heart to keep Cora alive.<p>

She looked beautiful, even now, soaked to the sodding bone in sweat and shivering like she'd been dropped naked in the middle of the bloody arctic; even on her last legs she was a fucking goddess, and none of them deserved her, not even her, but least of all Robert Crawley. She'd practically had to manhandle Edith from the room herself, and Sybil had been a damn nuisance hovering around them in concern – even _Mary_ had been up here and fussing over her mother like she'd never done before, but her husband had been nowhere to be seen.

She shouldn't give a damn really – she loved Cora and Cora loved her so why did it even matter that he was absent from what could be his wife's death bed? – but it didn't make one fucking bit of sense. He was the luckiest bastard in England being married to Cora, so why abandon her now?

"Sarah?"

It was little more than a breathless croak but Sarah heard it and sat up abruptly, holding Cora's hand as tight as she dared and leaned to brush her damp hair back from her face.

"I'm 'ere darlin'."

"You came."

"Of course I did. Your Edith drove us over 'ere so quickly I thought we were goin' to crash into a tree."

Her heart clenched at the sight of a tiny, exhausted smile; Cora could hear her. Whatever else happened, she could hear her now and that only boded well for her recovery, didn't it?

"I'm glad…you survived."

"I did, an' don't bloody think you won't either."

"So…_tired_."

Sarah's heart broke in her chest at that and she leaned to press a desperate kiss to Cora's forehead. "I know love, but 'ang on. _Please_ 'ang on because I can't lose you."

"I'm…not going…_anywhere_."

"Good," Sarah choked out. "Because I'll follow you Cora, I bloody swear it; you're not goin' anywhere without me, not again."

Cora's lips drifted up in a weary smile as her eyes fluttered shut again. She would be out any bloody minute now, but Sarah was determined to enjoy the brief flicker of consciousness before she lost her again, but she wouldn't lose her for good.

"Love you," Cora whispered, half knocked out already but Sarah smiled anyway, blinking back tears and stroked her thumb over her lover's pale cheek.

"I love _you_."

* * *

><p>Cora soon got worse, and two bloody hours later, the longest of Sarah's life, she had finally stopped convulsing, and lay deathly still with her hair fanned out on the pillow, so stark in contrast to the worrying pallor of her skin. She'd washed away the blood and everything else this miserable illness had forced from her, and now she looked like Snow White herself, except Cora wouldn't be awoken by a kiss. Whether she woke up at all was entirely left to chance now and Sarah didn't know how she'd get through the rest of the night.<p>

His lordship had long since retired and Sarah didn't care anymore. He could run off to Outer bloody Mongolia for all she cared and never come back – she was more than capable of taking care of Cora and she'd prefer to have him out of their lives for good.

"Miss O'Brien?"

Sarah looked wearily up from Cora's pale face to see Mrs. Hughes standing tentatively in the doorway. She was the last person Sarah had expected and she sat up straight, momentarily thinking the worst.

"Mrs. Hughes. Is everythin' alright? Is Mr. Carson-"

"Mr. Carson is fine, lucky beggar," Elsie assured her softly "He certainly hasn't had as hard a time as her ladyship." Her eyes drifted in the direction of the woman in the bed. "How is she?"

Sarah looked quickly bad to Cora with an aching heart. "Not well. They say if she lasts the night…" Sarah trailed off. Mrs. Hughes was smart enough to put two and two together and she couldn't bear to say the words.

Elsie nodded silently. She'd seen enough death in her time to know how close the Countess was to it, and few people deserved death less than Lady Grantham.

She forced a smile. "I have a letter for you, from home. I didn't know whether now would be a good time."

Sarah sighed wearily. "It can't be any worse than _this_," she muttered, her voice cracking in a rare display of emotion that Elsie was surprised by, and she quickly took the letter from the other woman's hands.

Her eyes quickly scanned the words and Sarah let out a breath, momentarily closing her eyes as she held both the letter and Cora's hand tighter.

"They're sendin' the rest of my brothers 'ome."

She was ashamed to think she'd forgotten about her brothers, but they'd forgive her she thought, given the circumstances. At least Julie and the kids would be alright now.

"That's wonderful news, Miss O'Brien."

Sarah's lips drifted up in the vaguest of smiles. "Why don't you call me Sarah? I'm not 'er lady's maid anymore."

"Perhaps not," Elsie murmured. "But you're certainly_ something_ to her."

Sarah's spine prickled in momentary panic – how the bloody hell did _Hughes_ know? – and sent a brief look of accusation in Elsie's direction, but the woman looked nothing but insufferably innocent.

"A friend, I 'ope."

"Oh, undoubtedly."

Elsie moved, sitting down on the other side of the bed after a minute of hesitation and reached to smooth out a stray crease in the bed sheets. She doubted it would make much difference though; she'd heard how her ladyship had convulsed earlier and she'd seen Miss Swire toss back and forth.

"I can't help but think his lordship should be here. It doesn't seem right, does it? Him being elsewhere whilst his wife…"

Sarah snorted, all the bitterness coming back to the fore. "He'd 'ave a bloody job gettin' close to 'er now."

"You know then," Elsie ventured. "About Jane?"

"Jane?" Sarah repeated, looking up sharply with a knitted brow. The name rang a bell but she couldn't place it and she was immediately alarmed by the look of panic on the other woman's face.

_You've really done it this time, Elsie! _

"Never mind," she smiled quickly and moved to stand up before she said anything else she might regret. "I'd best be getting back downstairs."

"I don't bloody think so!" Sarah interrupted sharply before Elsie could stand up completely. Anything to do with Cora, she wanted to know, and if her suspicions were correct she didn't think she could stop herself from interfering on her lady's behalf. "Who the 'ell is Jane?"

"Must I remind you that I'm the housekeeper here—"

"Forgive me Mrs. Hughes," Sarah interrupted drily. "But right now I wouldn't care if you were the Dowager Countess 'erself. And like I said, I'm not 'er maid anymore, which means _you're_ not my boss."

Elsie's lips curled up in a wry smile for a moment before she cleared her throat and conceded. "A housemaid. I'm not exactly sure but…I believe she and his lordship are…involved."

"Involved." Hughes didn't need to elaborate, and Sarah nodded shortly as she turned her attention back to Cora's pale, but impossibly beautiful face and stroked her thumb softly over the palm of her hand.

"e's even more of an idiot than I thought," she muttered, and Mrs. Hughes arched an eyebrow but Sarah dared her to comment. Besides, for all of her loyalty, Sarah suspected the housekeeper felt precisely the same.

"I should get back to work," she said after a moment. "With her ladyship sick and Mr. Carson the same, there's a great deal of work to be doing." She stood up fully this time, before fixing a sharp look on the other woman that was mingled with concern. "You _will_ rest, won't you Miss O'Brien?"

"Perhaps," Sarah muttered noncommittally with utterly no intention of sleeping until Cora was awake and well and drinking and eating properly. She stroked her thumb over her cold hand as she turned her attention back to the Countess completely. "Give Mr. Carson my regards."

* * *

><p>"She's so pale," Edith whispered, breaking the spell of silence that had engulfed the room for the last hour or so. Visitors had come and gone with the exception of his lordship, but none more so than Lady Edith and Sarah was glad of that. She had become even fonder of the girl since she had been at the farm – but not quite as fond as James had – and if there was anyone she wanted to share this nighttime vigil with, it was her.<p>

"She's always been pale," Sarah replied softly, smiling weakly at the girl. "Silly woman doesn't eat enough."

"She's _terribly_ pale though. She looks like a corpse."

Sarah's heart clenched at that and she pushed aside the pain the word produced because it simply couldn't happen. She wouldn't bloody let it happen. "She isn't a corpse yet m'lady, an' she won't be if I can 'elp it."

"You're _so_ good to her O'Brien." Edith flushed at the older woman's pointed look. They'd already discussed this, and she quickly corrected herself with a small smile. "Sarah. You've always been _so_ good. I've never seen such devotion."

Sarah's smile was strained. She hadn't always been good to Cora, and didn't she deserve to know? She'd given Cora her heart and soul, but not the full truth. "It's my job. At least it was."

Edith shook her head immediately. "No, it's more than that. You haven't left her side."

Not for a second in fact, save a few hurried dashes to the bathroom next door, but never more than ten seconds or so. She didn't think she would ever forgive herself if Cora died alone.

"I'm 'ardly goin' to leave her. She deserves a friendly face when she wakes up."

And she wanted it to be hers. She didn't want it to be Robert bloody Crawley, she wanted Cora to wake up and see _her_ and know how desperately loved she was. She hadn't given up on her, and she never would.

"It won't be Papa's."

Sarah looked up in surprise. She'd forgotten just how sharp Lady Edith was, sharper than Lady Mary at any rate, but what exactly did Edith know?

"M'lady?" It was Edith's turn this time, and Sarah smiled apologetically. "Edith."

"They're not the same anymore," Edith elaborated quietly. "They were so close before; it was rather sickening really, but that's all gone now. Papa's not even here when Mama needs him the most."

Sarah reached to squeeze Edith's hand. The young woman didn't need a rant against her father now, she needed her support. "We're 'ere though. Sybil's been in and out as often as she can, and even Lady Mary 'as deigned to shed a tear or two."

Edith giggled quietly at that, and Sarah arched her brow.

"Don't look so surprised, m'lady." She squeezed her hand again. "You were always my favourite, an' now you're my brother's too."

She smirked conspiratorially and Edith blushed brightly.

"I'm not sure what you mean, O'Brien," she quipped.

Sarah grinned teasingly. "Oh, now it's O'Brien again?"

"If you're going to be presumptuous then yes!"

For a moment Sarah was concerned she'd overstepped the mark, but Edith's words were tempered by a smile that soon faded as her eyes returned to her mother's ghostly form. She gripped her hand tighter, and Sarah grasped right back.

"I can't remember a longer night than this one."

"Not long left now," Sarah said gently, and let her eyes return to Cora's pale face. "She's come this far already, an' I don't think she'd ever leave you."

"Nor you. She's very fond of you, Sarah."

Sarah smiled absently and ran her eyes over Cora's face and forced the tears back once more. She would shed them when this nightmare was over and Cora was safe, and not a minute sooner.

"Not as fond as I am of 'er."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Last chapter now! Thanks to everyone who read this little epic and especially to those of you who were kind enough to review. You have no idea how much encouragement you gave me and I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT PUTTING VERA IN THIS FIC (mostly for the benefit of Scarlet Secret). She'll be in my next one, promise. This is the first time I have ever finished a multi-chaptered fic so I am super proud. Thanks again!

* * *

><p>Cora stirred in the early hours of the morning and released a barely audible moan. Everything felt so terribly cold but less foggy than it had done before; there was less confusion and Cora knew with sudden clarity that she had survived.<p>

The room was quieter than it had been the last time she had stirred. The doctor has come and gone and there was no Mary or Robert, and even Edith was absent; there was nothing but the soft breathing she knew, even feeling like there was an elephant sitting on her chest, belonged to the one woman she knew would be waiting for her if she had survived the night. And she was still here. She blinked in an effort to rid her vision of the blur she could only imagine came from hardly using her eyes over the last couple of days; opening them had simply hurt too much so she hadn't bothered, even at the start when she'd tried to be so brave for the girls. She flexed her fingers weakly against the mattress, creeping them over the sheets until they brushed over those of the other woman's with feather-light softness. She opened her mouth, her voice barely a croak from disuse, to softly whisper, "Sarah?"

Sarah raised her head quickly at the sound of Cora's voice. She'd imagined this moment over and over since this nightmare had begun, but nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of emotion that barreled into her at the sight of her lady, awake and alive and still looking so bloody beautiful lying on what had so very nearly been her death bed. She was a bit sweaty mind – more than a bit, given what her poor body had been through – but still the most glorious thing Sarah had ever laid eyes on and she clutched her hand as tight as she dared, given the woman was clearly still so weak. She smiled softly, stroking the back of Cora's knuckles and fighting a losing battle against the tears pricking so precariously at her eyes.

"Welcome back, darlin'."

Cora's lips drifted up in a ghost of a smile and she closed her eyes again. The effort to keep them open was massive, no matter how lovely the sight of the other woman. She looked thoroughly exhausted, the silly thing, and as soon as this was all over she intended to have a very long conversation with her lover indeed. She stroked her thumb weakly over the other woman's hand and let out a little breath, doing her best to lick her lips and relieve them of their dryness – she was desperate for a glass of water, for the first time since this illness had really set in.

"You're still here." She smiled again, managing to briefly open her eyes and fix them on the other woman. "You didn't leave me."

Sarah smiled, gripping Cora's hand that little bit tighter, if only to prove to herself this was real. She had prayed so much for Cora's recovery throughout the night, had begged and threatened any deity that would listen to bring the woman back to her, but she didn't think it was prayer that had brought the Countess back to the waking world; it was her own strength, strength her own bloody husband sometimes forgot she possessed. They'd all written her off for dead, but not her. Sarah knew Cora, and her lover would never go down without a fight.

"I'll never leave you love, an' I didn't. Not for a second."

She placed her hand gently behind her neck, simultaneously reaching for the glass of water she'd readied earlier on the off chance her mistress had roused long enough to want some, and brought the rim up to her dry, parched lips. Cora's body would no doubt lurch in protest at being moved, even marginally, and so she wrapped her arm tighter around her, cradling her close and supporting the other woman's weight entirely as she sipped tentatively from the glass.

Cora spluttered most of it out – she barely had the strength to even swallow – but the little water that did pass her lips felt glorious sliding down her throat. She sagged back heavily against the pillows as Sarah guided her back down and let out a shaky breath, reaching weakly for the other woman's hand again and gripping it for all she was worth.

"I knew you wouldn't. I knew you were here, the whole time. I could feel you. Sometimes I could hear you but I could always feel you."

Sarah's eyes stung at that, and she stroked back the other woman's hair reverently, placing the glass back down on the bedside table. Of course she hadn't left – how could she even contemplate leaving this woman when she needed her the most? Oh they'd tried to dismiss her – his lordship had practically ordered her from the bedroom, not that he'd had any intention of staying himself, the stupid bastard – but she was going nowhere. They'd have to drag her out, and anyway she didn't even work for him anymore!

She squeezed Cora's hand. "I'll get Doctor Clarkson, darlin'. He should be 'ere to check on you, an' his lordship-"

She pushed herself up, fully intending to do as she'd said, but she was stopped by Cora's surprisingly strong grip on her hand. She looked down at her lover to see her staring plaintively up at her, and found herself willed back into her seat by big, blue eyes that she'd come so very close to never seeing open again.

"Don't leave, not yet. They'll check in on me soon enough, but for now let it just be us. Please."

Cora would find no argument from Sarah and she sat back down again, grasping her hand gently back and raising it up to brush her lips over her knuckles.

"You've got me, darlin'. You've always got me."

"I should hope so," Cora whispered, closing her eyes and letting out a weary breath. Sarah squeezed her hand, encouraging her to stay awake and with her and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Cora smiled with all the strength she could muster, but her eyes were full of love. "I heard you telling me to hold on and I did."

Sarah blinked back tears, smoothing back her lover's hair and pressed her lips to her forehead. "I'm so grateful, darlin'. I meant what I said, I can't live without you."

Cora hummed, exhausted but happy. "You don't have to," she whispered, stroking her thumb faintly against the flesh of her lover's palm. "I'm here and so are you. You came."

Sarah laughed softly. The poor thing was _exhausted_ and speaking as if on a loop, but she was alive and she would never, ever leave her again. "Your daughter almost got us killed but we're both 'ere."

"Edith?" she whispered, smiling softly at Sarah's nod. She'd felt Edith's presence too, somewhere amongst the fog and hovering around Sarah, and…Robert?

"Was Robert here?"

Sarah swallowed. "Not very often, darlin'. I…suppose 'e was busy. It's been chaos 'ere an-"

"And he's been with her? With Jane?" Cora whispered.

Sarah's brow creased. How the bloody hell had she known about that, and, more importantly, how long had she _known_?

"I'm sharper than I look, dear O'Brien." She smiled wanly at the arch of Sarah's brow. "And Carson told me."

Carson? She'd have to have Cora tell her _that_ story when she recovered, but not a minute sooner. She was still so bloody weak and Sarah didn't intend to budge until she could stand on her sodding head or do the can-can, and she wouldn't let her lover strain herself either.

"Why didn't you tell me, love?" she whispered, cupping her cheek. "I always thought he was a stupid git, but never _this_ stupid."

Sarah's lips curled up in a tentative smirk. Lovers they might be, but they'd never ironed out precisely what was appropriate or not in regards to slights against her idiot of a husband, but right now she couldn't stop herself. If Cora had known and suffered at the hands of Robert fucking Crawley she'd be hard pressed not to make _him_ suffer.

"I didn't see the point," Cora whispered, nudging her nose against Sarah's palm and pressing her lips against her skin. "And it didn't hurt as much as it should have done, because deep down I loved you."

Sarah smirked softly. She'd never been one for all of the romantic nonsense, but it sounded exquisite coming from Cora's lips. "If 'e gets a mistress, I suppose you do too."

"You're not my mistress, Sarah. You're so much more than that."

Sarah fought back the swell of emotion in her chest, her eyes misting over. She wanted so bloody badly to climb up onto the bed and curl up beside Cora but they weren't at the farm now, they were at Downton Abbey and _anyone_ could come in. Nursing her throughout the night was one thing, but holding her here and never bloody letting go was another thing entirely.

"Still. You're not gettin' rid of me now love."

"You mean…you'll stay at Downton?" Cora whispered, and Sarah's heart warmed at the hope in her voice. She smiled softly, leaning down to brush their lips together.

"That's precisely what I mean."

"But…your father-"

Mel needed her, didn't he? That was the very reason Sarah had left in the first place.

"Lazy sod needs to do some work at _some _point, darlin'." Her lips quirked into a grin. "Besides, my brothers'll be back 'ome any day now."

"Oh _Sarah_," Cora breathed, her delight evident despite the exhaustion of her ordeal. "That's wonderful news."

"Isn't it?" Sarah grinned. George had quickly settled back into the life at the farm according to her Dad's letters, but she hoped he'd put some time aside for Julie after all she'd been through keeping his daughters safe and hopeful. And as for John….well, apparently he'd taken a bit more integrating, but he had Jimmy to help him through, and thank god they had each other because she didn't think anyone else could help. "An' they can't wait to meet you. Jimmy's been singin' your praises, and you really 'ave done a number on my Dad. I bet 'e'd marry you tomorrow if you only asked 'im."

Cora giggled quietly. Mel was absurdly lovely, but he was no Sarah O'Brien and she would never make the wife that Madge had. She'd heard so much about Margaret O'Brien over the past year that she wished she'd been around when she'd been around when she had been alive; she had all of Sarah's strength and all of the confidence but none of Sarah's tact. "As much as I adore him, I'd much rather marry _you_, darling."

"Yeah?" Sarah grinned softly. "I can't imagine 'is lordship's response when you turn round and tell 'im you want a divorce so you can marry your lady's maid."

"_Former_ lady's maid. You're a business woman now, Sarah."

"Not for much longer," she smirked softly. "Would that make it easier for your mother to stomach?"

Cora giggled weakly, and Sarah rubbed her arm; no doubt it hurt to do little more than lie still. "Lord no! You could be a lady for all she cared and she'd still have a coronary."

Sarah smiled and kept on stroking her arm, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I wonder if there's anywhere in the world we could ever be together without causing a scandal."

"I don't think so," Cora sighed. "And I couldn't leave the girls."

"I'd _never_ ask that of you, love," Sarah whispered, sliding her hand up to strke her cheek. "I'll go wherever you go, an' if you stay 'ere, I'll stay too."

"I could move you into the room adjoining mine," Cora suggested after a moment. "There'd only be a single door to separate us then."

Sarah laughed. "I think that might just push Mrs. Hughes over the edge love. You know 'ow she feels about favoritism."

"Oh, let her stew. I want you near me."

"And 'is lordship?" Sarah asked after a moment, and watched Cora closely.

"He's hardly going to notice given his _own_ dalliance."

Sarah frowned in surprise. "You're goin' to let 'er stay?"

"I'm hardly in a position to judge. As long as he's discreet."

They were silent for a long moment, before Sarah squeezed Cora's hand. "The war's changed everythin', 'asn't it?"

"Not everything," Cora whispered, and turned her head weakly to meet her lover's eyes. "It wasn't the war that made me love you."

* * *

><p>They held the funeral on a Saturday. There was no significance to the day, and very little thought at all, but she supposed she shouldn't expect much else from a man who had reportedly spent Lavinia's final hours waltzing her own daughter around the hallway. Cora couldn't pretend to have been initially pleased about Lavinia's presence in Matthew's life, but she'd become so fond of her eventually; they <em>all<em> had. She had been everything Mary wasn't – sweetness and light whereas Mary was dark, and she'd brightened up Downton Abbey just by being here. She'd brought her back to Downton under false pretenses, but the truth was Matthew had been better with Lavinia, with a woman who adored him unreservedly and would love him with all of her heart, even after he had recovered. Could Mary give him that, even now?

And now she was gone. Dead, just like Alfie, and for what? There was no glory to her death, no great cause behind it. Lavinia had died an unremarkable death, but she had been a remarkable woman, and Cora would not forget her.

She watched Mary and Matthew converse by the grave and felt a rush of irritation in her chest she found difficult to push back. She'd thought her daughter so much better than this, so above throwing herself at a practically married man, particularly now. But she'd misjudged Edith too so it was possible; she'd been so sure Edith would be the one to care for her and Robert in their old age, but she was so much more than that, _so_ much more, and she didn't deserve the Sir Anthony Strallans and not a single one of her sister's cast offs. She deserved happiness, and she had found it in James O'Brien.

And if Robert didn't like it, he could jolly well lump it!

"'re you alright, love?"

She felt an arm slide around her waist to offer support and smiled indulgently at the woman by her side. She should have known that Sarah would have been here; she'd barely left her side since the day she had arrived at Downton, and Cora didn't want it any other way. She leaned into the touch, releasing a breath of relief and turned her gaze back in the direction of her daughter. Richard Carlisle was there now, taking hold of her daughter's hand and it really was better this way. Matthew and Mary had caused so much pain between them, and surely enough was enough?

Sarah snorted softly beside her, squeezing her hip as she observed the two of them. She'd barely come into contact with the young Miss Swire - she'd been gone for years after all - but from what she'd witnessed she had been a sweet girl, barely deserving of Matthew bloody Crawley and certainly not Lady Mary.

"D'you think this'll be the end of it?" she asked, watching her lover closely. She had so very nearly lost her and she'd be damned if she didn't take proper care of Cora now.

Cora sighed. "Lord knows. You'd think it would be, after all of this, but then for all of her shrewd intelligence she seems especially blind when it comes to matters of the heart."

She always had been really. She'd failed to see the good in Cousin Patrick and had tossed Cousin Matthew away when she'd wanted him the most, and there was no point blaming that on Rosamund. She thought with her head, not her heart, and once upon a time Cora would have thought that an admirable trait but no more. Not now, with the love of Sarah O'Brien.

"She's not one bit like you darlin'."

"Oh I don't know," Cora murmured, turning to meet Sarah's eyes. "I think I'd ignore reason for you too."

Sarah smiled affectionately, sliding her hand down to Cora's. She'd nearly lost her; she didn't care _how_ suspicious it looked, she was going to hold her bloody hand.

"I think we already 'ave."

That Cora couldn't dispute. Robert might be in bed with the maid, but it was rather more concerning that she was doing precisely the same thing. She couldn't begin to imagine the look on Violet's face.

"Do you regret it?" she whispered.

Sarah's answer was all too easy. She'd sacrifice the rest of her life for these last few months with Cora, for the last sixteen years, and she'd stopped giving a damn about what was_ right_ the second Cora's lips first touched hers. "Not for a second."

"Neither do I," Cora whispered and tightened the grip of her fingers around her lover's but Sarah's brow quickly creased in concern. Cora's smile was much more strained than usual, it barely even reached her eyes, and she pressed her lips instinctively to her lover's cheek.

"Are you feelin' alright, darlin'? Do you need to sit down?"

"Why me?" Cora whispered, her eyes fixed on Lavinia's grave, and Sarah let out a breath at the bitterness in her voice. "Why did I survive, Sarah?"

Sarah tightened her hand around Cora's. She should have anticipated this really, and she cursed herself for not considering it earlier. Anyone with half a heart would feel the same, and Cora felt so much more deeply than others.

"Because you're strong Cora," she whispered, forcing the other woman to meet her eyes. "You're stronger than most, an' it was your strength that got you through."

Cora laughed bitterly. "So was Lavinia. Why did _I_ survive and she didn't? She's younger than me, I've lived a longer, fuller life and hers was just beginning, and now she's—" she broke off. She didn't need to finish her sentence; they could both see the gravestone in front of them bearing Lavinia's name.

"I don't care," Sarah whispered. Her voice was choked with emotion but she pushed on anyway, because she'd be bloody damned if she allowed Cora to go on like this, not now, after everything they'd been through. "I don't give two figs about what's fair and just; you're alive and that's all that bloody matters to me." She reached up, sliding her hand over Cora's cheek and let her thumb drift tenderly over her skin. "I wouldn't want to live without you love."

Sarah watched as a tear rolled down Cora's cheek. "It should have been _me_."

"Well it wasn't." Sarah's voice was so sharp that for a moment Cora forgot to breathe, and her tears froze on her cheeks. "An' I can't pretend I'm not glad because you're bloody _everythin'_ to me, Cora Crawley. I've left my brother behind, left my father, because I'm damn well goin' to be with you whether you like it or not." She broke off; the emotion in her chest threatened to overwhelm her but she would _not_ give in now, because Cora needed her strong. "I'm not goin' anywhere an' neither are you, so get used to it."

Cora swallowed, looking to the joint hands and brushed her thumb over Sarah's knuckles. "She was so _young_ Sarah."

"An' it wasn't your fault she died. If it was _anyone's_ fault it was-" she broke off. She might be Cora's lover but it didn't give her permission to slate her eldest daughter, even if she did think Mary Crawley was a daft, selfish cow. She began again, breathing in. "It was nobody's fault, love, just like it was nobody's fault that Alfie died."

Cora let out a breath. "Do you really believe that, Sarah?"

Sarah hesitated, and that alone gave Cora her answer, but she replied anyway, pushing away her cynicism; it was the last thing Cora needed. Cora needed her _love_. "You know I don't. But there's no point 'angin' on to all of the anger, is there? He's gone, but Jimmy's 'ome safe and so are George and John an' all any of us can do is count our losses an' carry on."

Was it really that simple? Half the world had fallen apart, and they were supposed to just 'count their losses'? Tell that to Alfie O'Brien, or indeed Lavinia Swire!

"But there have been _so_ many losses Sarah. How can the world carry on?"

Sarah paused. Bloody hell she understood the sentiment but she had Cora now, and that was all she needed to keep going. "Same way we always 'ave. An' you an' I 'ave each other now."

"I love you Sarah," Cora whispered, and hearing those words it was like there never had been a war, that nobody had suffered and nobody had died and there was nothing but Cora Crawley's bright blue eyes and soft skin and her heart that beat for _her_. They were together again after so many years, and if they'd had to suffer through a war to get to this one point then Sarah couldn't bring herself to begrudge a single bullet.

"I love you," she echoed, squeezing her hand and drawing her in for a soft kiss, and for once she didn't care who was watching and neither did Cora. This moment was _theirs_ and theirs alone and the rest of the world could wait. They'd waited sixteen years after all.

The End.


End file.
